


Dragon vs. Maiden

by AuroraAustralice



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Historical, Captivity, Dragon Draco Malfoy, Evil Ron Weasley, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Good Draco Malfoy, Historical Fantasy, Lemon, Pining Draco Malfoy, Scotland, Shapeshifting, scarred Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraAustralice/pseuds/AuroraAustralice
Summary: (AU, Historical Romance, Lemons) A historical retelling of Beauty and the Beast. A fearless maiden, a Dragon with an ancient legacy, some scarring, some heartbreak... all set in the rugged Scottish highlands. Hermione was meant to be his sacrifice... except he falls in love with her. Enjoy! and Review!(Re-posted from my Fanfiction.net account)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

A historic twist on an old fairytale. A Dragon, a brave maiden and a love story that spans centuries and produces legends.  
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Dragon vs Maiden  
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1705, Scotland  
.  
Hermione Granger startled awake, the last few weeks in the small highland village of Glenmorgan had been strange to say the least. The high murmur of lilting Gaelic reached her ears, it would seem that the village was gathering for some reason. And it all had something to do with sounds and lights being spotted in the castle in their village.

She quickly glanced out of the window high up on her cottage's stone wall and noted that the moon was still high in the sky, it be far too late in the night for a village meeting.

What on earth was happening?

Here at the edge of the world where the people still believed stories of boogies, dragons and fae folk her decidedly bluestocking tendencies were mostly ignored and at most disparaged with a shake of an elderly head.

However, Glenmorgan had been without a Laird or clan for decades, so long in fact that Hermione was born in this village that had tried to eke out a living in the beautiful northern lands high up and far away from civilization and she had never seen the hauntingly beautiful Glenmorgan castle occupied.

The castle was in a sad state of disrepair now but once it had been the vibrant centre of all life in Glenmorgan and the villages surrounding it but now with ivy climbing its tall stone battlements, its crumbling walls it gave merely a hint of romantic decay... almost making her believe that faeries and will-'o-wisps did indeed make their home in the abandoned halls of Glenmorgan castle.

The elders of their village loved to recall when the MacFoy clan had ruled over Glenmorgan and its surrounding forests and glens, recalling with nostalgic delight the dancing, drinking and celebration when the Laird would bring home a fine stag after the hunt or when the first harvest of wheat would be turned into uisge beatha and a bottle of the precious stuff would be handed to each family in village celebration.

All of these memories were of a time long past, the village folk always believed that the Laird had cursed the village when he had fled with his family after the siege of another warlord. One who had bribed his steward and people to leave the castle undefended.

Of-course the MacFoy's hadn't survived, their last stand ending with the death of the lord and lady of the castle and the death of their only son and heir Draconis... named in honour of the MacFoy guardian and crest, the Dragon of Pearl.

Despite her scepticism and her firm belief that magic was naught, but natures trickery and curses held no divine sway, Hermione could not deny that for the poor folk of Glenmorgan life had not been easy since their laird and his family had perished in the siege, their harvest often stolen by roaming bands of marauding bandits, their cattle dying and their infants too.

However, in her opinion 'twas not because of the curse, more likely 'twas because the people of the village refused to believe in science and chose to place their faith in god and superstition instead. Not that anyone believed her, after all she was merely the oddball daughter of the local healers who were known to be strange as well.

The rumblings seemed to come from the village square... getting louder and louder however Hermione loathed to leave her warm bed where the brick wrapped in flannel at her feet still emanated heat.

She had had little to do with superstitious folk of Glenmorgan since her parents died whilst returning from their travels in the American colonies, undertaken since her father was greatly interested in the healing techniques of the native people of the land.

Born to them later in life her father and mother were radicle scholars, students of science, astronomy and philosophers who had believed in educating their only child in the ways of Modern Thought, Rational Thinking and Science. She still left great sorrow even now after two years had passed since their ship was lost during the journey back.

They had passed down their healing touch and thirst for knowledge to their tow-headed little daughter, choosing to ignore the disapproval and outright disdain of many of the villagers. She now spent her days pouring over medical pamphlets and books, loving collected on her parents travels.

In fact, her cottage had books on almost every surface, often times she would stumble over a stack in the night when she needed to use the privy. That was the only inconvenience in her search for knowledge and her love of reading.

Oh, how she wished she could travel and see the world! However, 'twas a known fact that women travelling alone were seen as those who could be taken advantage of and Hermione had no desire for a husband, so she had to contend herself with her books and pamphlets.

She was a rarity in a village where the girls were engaged to be married as they entered their teens and families still left out food so as to not anger the goblins that they believed haunted the yonder glen and forests. She was an aberration, nearing 25, unmarried and still a maiden. Firmly on the shelf, she had resigned herself to life as a spinster.

Of course, men tended to avoid her, she had always known she was no great beauty and her strange and fanciful notions of independence, hygiene and lack of belief in the legends that seems to be breed into the very soil of the highlands were another reason.

After all who wanted a woman who spent more of her time reading scientific pamphlets brought back from Edinburg by the good Reverend than in the kitchen. No indeed... she had no reason to want to leave her warm bed and cottage, after all how many times had the old widows of the village scoffed at her high-minded beliefs and her intellectual pursuits. She was only thankful that her parents had made provisions for their only child in the event of their death well in advance.

Hermione had no reason to work, after all the cottage she lived in, her small herb garden, chicken coop and two goats provided her with enough milk, eggs and spices to trade with and a warm place to rest her head at night. And she didn't eat meat, having decided long ago she could eat nothing with a face, so 'twas unnecessary to purchase. Usually all she needed to trade for were tallow candles and wood to warm her hearth.

But she enjoyed her occasional work with the elderly Reverend, she was his secretary and the only other person besides him who could read in the village.

Doing everything from reading to him (his eyes were weakening with age) to copying down his sermons in her neat, small cursive so that they may be spread around to the villages in their district.

Pulling her pillow over her head she closed her eyes and began to count sheep, an exercise that helped her ignore the frightened whispers, her damnable curiosity and her own thoughts and go to sleep.

...

The next morning Hermione hurried across the village green with a basket of her fresh eggs hanging off her arm, her curly amber hair was confined to a dark brown snood and her soft homespun woollen gown curled around her rather overgenerous curves.

She was eager to know what had happened last night, however she would wait to ask the Reverend since he was a man who believed in logic and reasonable and rational thinking almost as much her dearly departed parents. He would not mislead her with false tales of fae and dragons.

"'Mione! 'Mione!" the annoying voice of her childhood friend and tormentor Ronald called to her, she noted the repressed excitement and fear in his voice even before she saw his face.

She stopped reluctantly and turned to give him a small smile, "Ron! Whatever was that whole commotion last night?"

"The Dragon has returned to Glenmorgan castle." he replied hurrying towards her, his pale blue eyes shining with excitement and terror.

"The Dragon?" she asked disbelievingly.

"The MacFoy Dragon." he exclaimed, nearly hopping in his place, "There was great roar heard last night and the upper towers... the ones facing the sea... Old Widow Kilkenny spotted a light within them and they say you can only hear the roar when the MacFoy Dragon is in residence."

Hermione resisted the urge to scoff and roll her eyes, 'twas probably only some mischief-makers or thieves trying to play a prank on the poor gullible villagers of Glenmorgan, but she knew better than to say that out loud.

"Indeed, a dragon. Are you sure widow Kilkenny wasn't on her fourth jug of ale when she saw those lights?" she said in a tone so dry a mere spark could have lit it on fire.

He narrowed his eyes at her tone and frowned, "'tisn't a mere legend Hermione Granger, the MacFoy family has had magic since the conquest, 'tis the only reason Glenmorgan survived the siege against the English bastards."

She lifted her hands in supplication, "I suppose this dragon also demands a virgin sacrifice?" she asked laughingly, "Finding a maiden in Glenmorgan might be rarer than an actual dragon. Mayhap we should have one of the babes ready to be given over as a sacrifice instead."

She waved at him and turned to hurry back towards the Reverend's house not seeing the look of speculation that crossed his square face.

He turned and walked towards the village tavern thoughtfully, though he hadn't told her there was to be a meeting of the village men held in the tavern to decide how to please/placate the lost Glenmorgan dragon.

Mayhap a sacrifice of a virgin wasn't the worst idea... perhaps 'twould break the curse that had haunted this land since the Laird and his family had disappeared, cursing the faithless villagers for accepting their enemy's coin.

The Granger girl may not believe in curses and legends but the rest of Glenmorgan did and while finding a maiden was indeed rare, Ron knew one... the snooty, overly educated Hermione Granger herself.

Aye... he would pose his inquiry to their little meeting and see if the men agreed. Of-course she would never go willingly but it wouldn't take much force to drag her to the crumbling gates of the Keep. He smiled a grim smile, 'twas after all for the greater good.

...

"Reverend Slughorn." Hermione intoned, knocking on the sturdy oak door of the cottage attached to the church, while a dear man the reverend was fiendishly lazy it was often the knocking of Hermione coming by to help him with his many tasks required of a village clergyman that would wake him to break his fast.

Even then he liked to linger over his tea, hot-cross buns and the devilishly expensive sugar preserved pineapples that his sister often sent him from her grand home in Edinburgh.

Alas he was only the single one of his brethren this far up north, for even the most zealous of the Church of England feared the highlander and their reputation of savagery.

A reputation that the MacFoy clan was well known for before the betrayal that came from their own people and clan. He was a lowlander and often lamented the godless and pagan ways of the highlanders but even he dared not utter any hasty words in condemnation of the crumbling Glenmorgan keep and its bloody and sad history. Though Hermione was certain that like her, the good god-fearing priest too didn't believe in the silly tales of dragons and men who turned into dragons.

'Twas merely all twaddle and stuff of unsound and uneducated minds rotten with superstition she told herself firmly. Aye it was hardly the medieval times, now was it.

"Coming coming." came the muffled voice behind the sturdy door and then she heard the deadbolt slid open revealing a plump older gentleman, the soft sort in a long nightshirt and a soft woollen sleeping cap.

"Good morning Reverend!" she greeted brightly, sweeping past him into the small cottage where the fire was still blazing cheerfully.

"Morning' ma'dear. My you always rise rather early don't you Hermione lass?"

"Early to bed, early to rise and all that, Father. Shall I put the kettle on, I have some lovely fresh eggs we can have with cream and some fresh bread I baked last night that we can have with the preserves I made from the raspberry harvest last summer?"

If there was one thing Father Slughorn couldn't resist... 'twas the mention of food. He seated himself at his desk and perched his handsome golden framed spectacles on his rather short and stout nose, indeed the priest was well pleased. When the young Granger lass came to inscribe his latest sermons, he found he could much sooner return to his main source of passion and area of interest... the study of ancient druidic texts recovered from an ancient seminary in Wales for she worked quickly and efficiently.

He'd never admit it out loud, but the lass was even brighter and more learned than the sons of nobility that had been his squires in the seminary. It wouldn't do to give the woman a big head but aye she was an asset alright.

Hermione smiled fondly at the dear old man who has already forgotten she was in the cottage with him. He reminded her of her own dearly departed papa, a devoted scholar... there was nothing on this earthly realm that held the interest of John Granger the way his books and ancient treaties had. The Reverend was much the same.

While the good priest lost himself within another old tome, Hermione bustled around the room tiding the many books, scrolls and bits of parchment scattered about. Stopping only when the whistle of the large iron kettle sounded from the hearth. Quickly and efficiently she put the eggs to cook inside a thick bottomed cauldron and set the bread to warm on a metal rack above the fire.

"'tis rather chilly for March isn't it, Father?" she said, making light conversation while she laid down the white cloth on the few inches of wooden table she could see under the stacks of books. "Come now, breakfast is ready. We shall break our fast together." She gathered the raspberry preserves, the warmed bread, butter, the eggs cooked in fresh cream, the large kettle of tea and a can of the Father's favourite pineapple candies and set them down.

The absentminded priest wandered over and Hermione watched with hawkish eyes, getting ready to subtly grill him about what had gone on last night in the village.

She was even more curious now, from the few whispers she had gathered that for the first time in decades lights had been seen in the old Glenmorgan castle and the low howl of the MacFoy dragon had been heard. She was hoping the good Father would put a stop with logical and scientific thinking to these rubbishy stories.

After all it could be thieves or bandits merely trying to take advantage of the uneducated in the village to rob them by making them fear the MacFoy dragon legend and the curse of Glenmorgan castle of their few possessions.

"Father..." she began, pouring the fragrant herbal tea picked from her own garden and dried in the rare sunshine last month into thick pewter mugs, "Did ye participate in some sort of village meeting last eve?" she questioned casually.

"Oh aye." He muttered absently, "There were mysterious lights within the keep last eve and the eve before. 'Twould seem someone has taken up residence within its crumbling walls again?"

"A dragon?" she asked innocently, buttering him a hot cross bun and laying it on his plate beside the warm eggs.

"A dragon?" Slughorn looked at his young helper carefully, frowning at her strange question, "Now you know better than to believe such rot and nonsense young lass, why last month in Edinburg I purchased The Discovery of a World in the Moone for you young lady. A science minded lady has no need to believe in nonsense like dragons and men who turn into dragons."

"So 'tis true then, Father?" she asked, sounding more excited then was seemly, "the legend that they spew about the MacFoy?"

"Nay lass, the dragons on their crest be mere creatures of legend. Like an Arthurian fairy tale."

"Aye, Father." she subsides with a triumphant smirk, 'twas just as well she hadn't left her cottage for the good priest had confirmed what she Hermione Jean Granger already knew.

'Twas no such thing as a dragon.

...

"They grow suspicious, my laird." said Draconis's faithful house-elf. Looking more than a little worried, which was strange since it took a great deal more than some villagers to ruffle Dobby's feathers.

"Suspicious of what?"

"That the Dragon has returned to Glenmorgan castle."

"The Dragon has returned, Dobby." He replied dryly.

"Yes, I understand master but 'twouldn't be wise for them to know you have returned. Since you do not plan to stay and play laird of their land."

...

Hermione hummed to herself as she shut the door to the rectory's cottage behind her. She had had a productive day after putting the last of the Glenmorgan dragon nonsense from her mind. The good Father had plenty of sermons that needed to written and he had even a new text in Latin wating for her with very specific instructions for her to translate it. On her way home her mind was occupied with her new project. If she had only paid a little bit more attention, she would have noticed the village folk all turning to look at her with a keen and speculative eye.

That afternoon Ronald Weasley had put forth his theory about the Glenmorgan curse, the Dragon, their stolen crops and animals and how they could win back the favour of the Dragon with a virgin offering to all the men sat in the tavern.

"Finding a virgin around these parts 'twould be like trying to find a unicorn." spat Harold the blacksmith, "You'd best give up lad, we have to find some other way to get rid of this damnable curse."

Ron had tutted his friend, "The idea was given to me by a virgin herself." He said with malicious glee.

"Who?" questioned Fudge the village weapons-master.

"Why that lass Hermione Granger."

Mummers of speculation had broken out among the many men gathered there.

"She hasn't married yet."

"She be rather peculiar, indeed."

"If he were to feed on her those plump arms and legs will keep him going for a while, they would."

"No doubt, lad." said one of the elders, "'tis no foolish point you raise. However, the lass's head is addled by all her reading. How do you propose to convince her to become an offering for the mighty Dragon."

"Why elder... I hadn't thought to ask at all." Ron replied innocently, "After all what can one wee lass do against a whole village."

...

Had Hermione Granger been a more observant person she would have noticed the eerie hush around the village but she was absorbed in the latest book she was to translate from Latin and when she was this absorbed in her books she rarely noticed anything except when her candles would gutter out towards the early dawn hours.

On her small rosewood desk, she sat with the end of the fine white feather quill tapping against her teeth as she struggled to translate a particularly hard word.

The quill had been a gift from her parent's on her birthday two years ago. They had sent it via a friend who was travelling back to Scotland, an old healer who had run into them at the colonies. The stories Hiram had told Hermione were the last few memories she had of her parents.

Across the green, The Leaky Cauldron was buzzing with activity with the exception of children and young women most of the village was seated in the tavern's warm sunroom. The cherry fire crackled at the hearth and plenty of ale was being passed around. As oblivious as Hermione was to the village... the affliction was most assuredly one-sided.

"Friends, members of the council, ladies and gents." said Harold, clearing his throat and calling everyone's attention to Ron who looked eager to take centre stage at this gathering. "Could I have you attention please?"

The gathering turned to look at the lad they had known for most of their lives, some having grown up with him and his siblings and some having known his parents and grandparents all their lives.

"As you all well know..." Ron began, clearing his throat and deepening his voice dramatically to make sure everyone in the small room understood the significance of what he was about to say. "The lights have returned to the Glenmorgan castle... the first in the many signs that signal the return of the Dragon."

"Aye and me Bess heard his roar." said Hanna Longbottom emphatically, "Her and the lads were down, playing by the creek... when they heard it... loud and fearsome."

"Aye my Janie as well..."

"And my Gemma too..."

The chorus of voices claiming to have heard the Dragon were making the rest of the gathering squirm in worry... all of them exchanging looks of dread and worry.

"'Tis just as well, isn't it." Widow Kilkenny said bitterly, "We haven't had a decent harvest in the last three years, first 'twas the locusts, then 'twas the redcoats and then just plain bad luck. Aye that old laird is cursing us from his grave."

"That is what we gathered you here to speak about. As we all well know the curse that was placed upon our village... rotting our harvests, killing our lambs and children. We have been slave to it for far too many years and now the Dragon has returned... to enact a perhaps even greater revenge for this village's betrayal in his war with the MacNott clan."

"So, we have a plan..." Harold, Ron and Ron's older brother Percy said at the same time, "For there is only one way to appease a dragon's thirst for revenge."

By now all the people in the room had stopped speaking... looking intently at the trio stood in front of them. They were desperate to believe... they needed their harvests to ripen and their babes to grow and so they were willing to do anything to appease the beast they believed had returned. Perhaps this times they would have a chance at redemption.

"Well lad." Demanded the plump Mrs. Sprout, "Spit it out... what is the only way to appease a dragon."

"According to every bard tale I have heard and every legend the most effective way is the sacrifice of a virgin." He replied solemnly.

A cacophony of noises broke out in the small room.

"A virgin!? Impossible."

"There are no virgins here lad, they've already tossed their skirts, or they are merely girls... too young."

"Ha! A virgin he says...might be better of trying to find a unicorn... especially in Glenmorgan village."

"Enough!" Ron said, raising his voice, "You lot need not worry about procuring the virgin... for we already have one in mind. The only thing you lot need to worry about is getting her ready to be sacrificed."

"And pray who is this virgin lad?" came a dry voice

"Why our very own bluestocking... Miss Hermione Granger."

His announcement had just the right amount of drama in his opinion and gained the gasps, jests and agreement of all those gathered in the small tavern.

"I think we should take her to the castle tomorrow, it is after all a full moon." Ron said, as if he was an authority of what the supernatural accepted as sacrifices and when.

Seeing the look of unease on a number of faces he made sure to point out in a jovial manner, "Have no fear, once the creature in Glenmorgan has his hands on a virgin sacrifice I'm sure he wouldn't bother us anymore."

...

The new morning dawned grey and the thick storm clouds in the distance threatened rain at any minute. The village had an eerie hush about it, Hermione still completely oblivious to the malicious nature of the talks last night and her own starring role at the very centre of their hairbrained scheme to sacrifice a virgin to the dragon of Glenmorgan castle wouldn't be home munching on a current bun had she known that tonight the good, god-fearing people of the village planned to make HER their virgin sacrifice.

She had stayed home, gathering eggs from her chicken coop, tending her herbal garden and readying some fresh bread and a hearty stew made with the precious few spices her parent's had sent along with their friend as a gift for her birthday.

She was truly lucky, the small cottage she lived on sat on a particularly fertile plot of land, heads of lettuce and cabbage that grew were the size of her head and her potato crops always yielded large uniform potato's that were sweet and hearty in equal measure.

Of-course she wasn't to know that after tomorrow she would never see her little cottage again. And had she been at that village meeting she could have explained to the good people of Glenmorgan that Ronald Weasley wasn't in want of sacrificing her due to just her virginity but also her refusal to wed him and his lust for her small parcel of land.

Anyone who knew the Weasley's knew that whilst blessed with many children and their father's steady blacksmith work... the family did not have a great deal of land. Certainly not enough to divide equally among their six sons whilst still having a dowry for their youngest, a daughter to marry well.

Ron who was the same age as Hermione was keen to have his own land, be the master of his own home and so it hadn't taken him long after her parents were gone to approach her with an offer of marriage.

Except for Hermione marrying Ronald Weasley was impossible, oh he was a fine enough friend, a decent lad but Hermione wasn't a simply bread village girl, with the education her parents had given her she knew she couldn't live under the thumb of a husband like Ronald, one who heartily disapproved of her intellectual pursuits, her pamphlets and all forms of her studies.

So, she had rejected him gently, letting him know that it certainly had nothing to do with him, but she would never marry due to her own shortcomings.

What she hadn't realised was that rejecting him was not a part of his plans and his resentment had simply grown... he resented the land she owned, her independence, her freedom and lack of worry about food or grain... he resented her so much that when an opportunity had presented itself in the form of the Glenmorgan 'Dragon' returning to his keep he had sprung upon it and now was delighted that most of the people who lived in the village were willing to go along with it.

...

The storm that had threatened all day began to rage as soon as the weak sun was gone, the misty village was eerily silent and dark. Each crack of lightning made the village people gathered in the tavern uneasy.

"I vow, 'tis a fierce storm." murmured one of the elders, he shifted uneasily, "This plan lads...? 'tis the best recourse?"

"His rage grows." said Ron thoughtfully, "If we delay the sacrifice any longer it will be hell to pay. The wheat cannot survive these gales."

The loud crack of thunder sounded perilously close to the roar of a mighty beast, startling the people all over again and the strong winds blew through the wooden shutters... making candles gutter and spit off in their brass holder.

"Aye it must be tonight." said Harold grimly, "I have a hundred bales to sell to that English bastard when he gets here for the Spring trading season and storms like these get them with mould. It's best we gain his favour immediately."

Silently the mob dressed in oilskins and gathered their mismatched weaponry and began to march towards the small cottage where Hermione Granger lived.

"'Tis a pity." sighed one from the crowd, "Had she only been married she would have avoided this fate."

Hermione didn't notice the commotion outside her house until she heard the banging on her front door. She hurried to the door, wondering who was about so late and in such horrid weather only to receive a rude shock when she opened her door.

"Ron?" she asked, confused as to why each and every single man in the village was gathered at her door.

"A decision has been made Hermione." said the red head with a grim smile.

"A decision about what?"

"Had you not declined to attend the meetings in the The Leaky you would have known."

"Why are you here so late." She was growing quite desperate especially when she noticed the dark smile on some of the men's faces.

"We have taken a decision regarding the return of the Glenmorgan Dragon. His appearance is a second chance for our people by making a sacrifice to him our lands will return to their previous state, the curse will be lifted."

"Are you mad!" she shrieked, "A virgin sacrifice! Have you all positively lost your minds! There is nothing within the walls of that castle save rats and ivy and perhaps a few thieves looking to take advantage of your silly superstition."

She began to slam the door on their faces, but Ron wedged his boot under her door, the other two men flanking him reached out with brawny arms to grab her and haul her out of the house and into the soaking rain. Hermione wore nothing save her soft muslin sleeping gown and was drenched through in minutes.

Her scream of rage was drowned out by the loud ominous roar from the direction of the fortress. Despite her anger at what was happening and her conviction that while they may tie her outside the castle, she would be there come morning she couldn't help but feel a shiver of trepidation race down her back.

The heavy storm didn't allow for much conversation, not that she intended to speak to these people of the foolishness of what they thought. But also, she was too busy trying to maintain whatever dignity she could salvage as the men peered at her breasts and thatch made visible to all due to the transparency of her gown.

As they reached the gates of Glenmorgan keep lightening began to flash more and more frequently making the men fearful and hasty. They shoved her inside the gates of Glenmorgan castle... walking her all the way to the large well in the centre of the courtyard.

"You're going to regret this, Ronald Weasley." Hermione hissed out, shivering as sheets of rain kept her cold.

"If you survive the cold, you won't survive the Dragon." He smirked, "Maybe you see now... that marrying me wasn't the worst idea in the world but alas." he faux sighed, "Women who like to think of themselves above their station often end up falling ever so low."

These people who she had grown up around, who's many wounds she had tended and who's many babes she had brought into this life ignored her flailing. Watching only for a minute before leaving her... tied to the well... in the middle of a storm... in the Dragon's lair.

Hermione tried calling out but there was no one from the village left on the keep grounds.

God... she was so cold... the rain seemed to be stopping though... maybe she'd finally be able to wriggle out of these ropes. She tried to give them an experimental tug... they held fast.

And then suddenly she felt a prickle at the back of her neck... like she wasn't alone anymore.

She had almost stopped breathing... she was terrified... what if it was highwayman... or a murderer...

From the corner of her eye she watched the large shadow descend upon her and suddenly it was all too much... the rain... the strange shadow... the betrayal of her own village.

She fainted dead away.

...

What the hell was he supposed to do with the girl Draconis wondered, already regretting his decision to carry her inside.

She had fainted quite spectacularly when she had first seen his face, not that he blamed her he thought wryly... anyone would seeing the large gash across his face.

They had tied her to the wooden spokes of the large well in the castle courtyard. What was she supposed to be? Dressed in a transcalent muslin gown she looked like she was meant for a pagan sacrifice.

A virgin for their dragon overlord... he thought with amusement. Not knowing how close to the truth he really was.

Couldn't leave her to die out there in a storm now could I, he thought grimly. He already had problems aplenty. He didn't need this in his life... but by Merlin's hairy beard she was bonny.

The lass had curly amber hair, now damp they were straggling over her pale pink neck and bosom. Whoever had decided to dress her in the pale, translucent shift had made the wrong decision. For it showed all her many treasures plainly.

Wet because of the harsh rains Draconis could see every delectable inch of her, the soft muslin clinging to the high arches of her soft, round breasts... the pale cloth so see-through he could make out the dusky pink of her nipples and the thatch of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Her face was delicate, fae like... plump lips pursed in a childish manner and wide soft brown eyes that widened and then shut in a dead faint when they had first gotten a glimpse of him.

Aye he hadn't felt desire such as this in ages, it had been several months since his wife had committed suicide and left him alone with his son and in all these many months he hadn't felt a stirring of any desire no matter how many times he had been propositioned by the bored, beautiful widows in London but this little country mouse got his cock hard as a pike.

She moaned a little... shifting in his arms, wrapping herself more firmly around him, seeking his warmth. She was a wee thing, standing she would reach merely his chest but lord she had such sweet curves. His large hands flexed on the soft skin of her bottom, desiring to rip the flimsy robe she wore open and feast himself on her lily-white skin.

She had probably taken one look at the harsh scar that marred the side of his face, cutting across one eye that was now covered in a black velvet patch and fainted. Once upon a time Draconis had resembled a young archangel, his golden beauty unmarred by even the slightest imperfection but having been forced into the Royal Navy when he had manged to flee Glenmorgan alive and fallen into the hands of some English bastards had turned him into a hard man.

With a hard face, his big, muscular body couldn't be mistaken for that of a poet's or a gentleman's... no he was unfashionably muscular from hauling munitions and cannons onto their fighting ships; his thick arms and legs heavily muscled, tanned a dark golden so unfashionable in London by the harsh sun that beat down on him and his men on the boat, his hands were rough and his body marred with many more scars than just the one on his face.

He had received that scar when a cannon ball had exploded near his face in the Nine-Year war against the French, by then he had already made it to lieutenant in the Royal Navy by hiding his Scottish roots.

He had fought for the very country he hated... after all him and his family had been betrayed by their clan, the people who were supposed to defend them so fighting for the enemy hadn't seemed like that terrible of an idea.

He had made a fortune in the navy and afterwards married Astoria Greengrass, the pampered daughter of an Earl... the Greengrass holdings had been a tempting and rich addition to his own vast estate but he had been attracted to the beautiful and vivacious Astoria not realising until much later that vivaciousness hide a streak of suicidal melancholia. One day his beautiful wife would be laughing and playing and then next she would take to her bed for weeks.

It was only after the birth of their son Scorpius that Draco had begun to notice that Astoria's melancholia wouldn't abate and by the time the little boy had turned five months old his mother was actively finding ways to try and kill him.

It had broken Draco to have to confine his wife away from his son and one day she had simply slipped from her quarters and climbed to the turrets of their home in Yorkshire and jumped to her death.

Her father had blamed Draco and all Draco could do was flee... it had been too much, the loss of his beautiful wife... the death of his son's mother and so he had returned here... to his childhood home in hopes of gaining some peace and perspective.

At a mere ten months Scorpius couldn't afford to lose both his mother and then his father as well, so he had brought his little son along. Glenmorgan was also the only place Draco felt at complete peace with the other half of himself... the Dragon half... the legacy that every MacFoy son had carried from the dawn of time... the existence of their Dragons.

The MacFoy clan had been Dragon shifters since the 10th century... at least that's how far back their clan's recorded history went. One of Draco's ancestors had been one of the legendary knights of the Round Table, gifted his magic and his abilities to shapeshift by Merlin himself.

His family had occupied a place in all the kings courts since the time of William The Conqueror himself.

However the stunning betrayal that his father experienced at the hands of his own people and his parent's subsequent death and Draco's capture by the Redcoats and the torture he faced in the English dungeons before being thrown onto a Royal Navy boat half-starved and very nearly an animal, had brought the fortunes of his old family plummeting.

Few other than the decedents of the other noble knights of the Round Table now knew of the existence of the MacFoy clan. The only thing he had been assured to see was that the Dragon's horde remained buried in the heart of Glenmorgan castle untouched by greedy villagers and unfound by any bandits or marauders. Draco had many conflicting emotions returning to the castle of his birth... the place where he had played as a child... the place which held the last memories he had of his parents.

In England he had tried to bury his Scottish heritage, married an English lady... had a child with her and yet mere months after Astoria's death the only place Draco could think to flee, to be able to think without the clamour of outside voices and return to himself for his son was the home of his childhood.

And now fearing the curse of the Dragon, the villagers had done of the only thing they could think of... tried to appease the Dragon with a virgin sacrifice. Well that was his working theory anyway.

He couldn't let her return to the village and take his secret with her... all he had wanted when he had returned to this castle was to rest and regain his perspective.

But he couldn't have just left her out there in the storm... to catch her death of cold dressed as she was and so he took her to his chambers in the north tower overlooking the sea. It was the only room beside the kitchen and a small drawing room that Draco was using as Scorpius's nursery that was furnished in the crumbling castle. He had wanted to make it as difficult and discouraging as he could to prevent strangers and thieves from venturing into Glenmorgan and to do that he had simply left it has it had been after the MacNott invasion.

The once magnificent castle now only boasted broken cheval windows, delicate French china crushed under the boots of soldiers, velvet curtains lined in soot and dust that hung... burned by the MacNott men who had set the castle on fire after killing its lord and lady.

He carried her easily, like she weighed nothing. Indeed, it had been far too long since he had felt the sweet pervading warmth of a sinuous woman... she smelt of jasmine and a hint of feminine sweat... a clean, earthy and floral aroma that made his body jerk with awareness. They had truly picked a fine virgin to send him he thought with a wry smile.

He opened the hidden panel that led him into the tower room... his room... before climbing the stairs to the large bed the dominated the centre of the room and laid her down. Debating internally on if he should strip her of her wet clothes.

It'll be fine he told himself... after all he was merely helping, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen women naked before. 'Twas merely like being a nurse.

Briskly before he could change his mind, he knelt beside her on the bed and held her upper body like a babe, carefully pulling first one arm and then the other from the sodden sleeves of her muslin gown. He made his way down her down in an efficient manner, making sure not to look or linger over any one part for overly long.

It felt wrong to strip an unconscious woman, so he rapidly removed her gown, chemise and undergarments before wrapping her in one of the warm silken duvets that decorated his large oak bed.

He then retreated to the silkwood chair in the corner of the room, pouring himself a large measure of Fire-Whiskey on the way. In the darkness his eyesight was perfect and from this corner he could study the woman at ease. He took a moody swallow of the warm liquor, noting bitterly how the woman slept like a child. One small palm tucked under her cheek and her soft pink lips slightly open.

The sleep of the innocent he thought sardonically, laughing at how that phrase actually had multiple meanings in this scenario.

...

Hermione woke up feeling like she was on a bed of clouds, the rare March sunshine was streaming in through her cottage window... warming her bedclothes and her skin...

Her skin?

Her soft... plush bed...?

The village...?

The Dragon...?

Someone picking her up and carrying her...?

A large, warm hand on her face... checking to make sure she was breathing?

She sat bolt upright, pulling the silk sheet up to her chest... her bare chest. Where in the world was, she?

Cautiously she looked upwards, gasping at the fresco on the ceiling of the chamber, like in a Botticelli painting it depicted the frolicking of dryads and the chase of satyrs across lush green hills, gilded in gold and crown moulding the fresco had lost very little of its beauty in the fire that had burned the rest of Glenmorgan castle.

In fact, this entire room was like something out of a gothic novel, Hermione could hear the sea crashing up against the rocks below and the shrill cry of seagulls. She lifted her head to look around her, she lay on a luxuriously appointed bed covered in sea blue silk sheets with white netting around it. Every space in the room held fat wax candles. Wax... not the nasty yellow tallow ones that left a distinct smell of goose fat once burned in a room.

A desk of polished oak sat next to one of the windows, parchment and vellum stacked neatly under an inkwell that housed an ink so dark green that she would've guessed black had a shard of sunlight not shone through it.

The only thing this room didn't seem to have...

Was a door.

Was she a prisoner?

In the Dragon's lair?

...


	2. II

Dragon vs Maiden II  
.

Never one to lose her wits quickly Hermione wrapped the soft sheet around her torso like a toga and began to inspect the room. There had to be an opening otherwise how could that man have brought her up and into this room, it must be a panel or a secret door that opened this tower up to the rest of the castle.

And it was a man... after fully regaining her faculties she had scoffed at her own ridiculous notion of being stuck in a dragon's den. No... most assuredly whoever had brought her to this room was human. But why hide in this dilapidated castle she thought suspiciously.

All the furnishings around her seemed to be expensive and new... the castle may have been dusty and crumbling but this room was surprisingly well furnished like the solar of some nobleman. To her delight there were also a few books on the mantle above the fireplace and the view from the large window by the desk was very fine, it looked out over the cold Northern Sea and endlessly beyond. She shook herself... she had to be vigilant, whoever had brought her inside the castle was surely coming to check on her.

And so, she left the bed dragging her toga with her, her feet encountered a damp garment and when she bent to examine it, she realised it was her very own nightdress. How like a man to not hang up a wet garment for it to dry she thought, irritated.

And then suddenly she blushed a furious shade of red in anger... how dare this stranger... whoever he was presume to undress her? Had he taken liberties with her person? She surreptitiously examined the bed coverings for any signs of blood until a voice interrupted her dryly from behind.

"Worry not miss... I haven't ravished you..." Draco couldn't resist adding "yet" in a quiet voice as the woman turned to him in shock.

"Dragon?" Hermione gasped out before she could help herself. The man who stood in front of her couldn't look more bestial if he tried. However, to Hermione's dismay she found that his raw magnetism wasn't quite as off-putting as she would have liked to think. Hermione had always thought that if she were ever to be attracted to someone, it would be a man with her own scholarly sensibilities; gentle, a little soft... someone to read poetry with and discuss the latest in the scientific journals.

It was never fun to be confronted with the exact opposite.

The man before her had the face of a young god... one of the seraphim... except for the long, angry gash that went down the right side of his face, cutting neatly through his right eye which remained covered in a patch, so she assumed he had in fact lost it. Perhaps she thought in a daze... God himself had made sure this man was forever scarred... after all no mortal should have the face of an angel and the body of the devil she though with a furious blush...

Self-consciously Draco brushed his overly long hair, in a way that covered the scar. "I know 'tis distasteful to look it." He said gruffly.

"What?" Hermione said, not really listening to him... my god look at those muscles she thought... she had never been a lustful lass... nay she had never been once tempted to toss up her skirts for any of the village lads so what in the world was happening now, "Oh your scar? Your scar doesn't bother me, Dragon."

"My name isn't Dragon..." he sighed, at her encouraging look he was prompted to answer reluctantly, "It's Draco."

"You know there are some nasty rumours going about in the village. If you just let me return, I'm sure I can clear all this up and..."

"I want to stop you right there lass." said the tall man in front of Hermione... immediately stopping her little speech. My... he had a very commanding manner she though... almost like a military man, "The reason I came to Glenmorgan keep was so that no one would approach me. I am well aware of the keep's reputation of being haunted."

"Oh, not to worry then, I'll just return to my cottage and we'll all be none the wiser. I promise you have no reason to worry about me talking. After all everyone at the village thinks I'm a kook like my parent's anyway." she replied airily, heading towards the staircase that led down and out of the tower, "I'll just let myself out. Is this the way?"

He offered another apologetic smile, "I'm afraid not lass. That'll merely raise more questions."

"So, what's your solution." she demanded.

"Why... I've decided to keep you." he replied with a smirk, "Breakfast is on its way, lady. Don't be going anywhere."

"See here now, my good sir, I am a believer of science and rational thought and not one for fanciful tales of dragons and beasties, I demand you let me go! You cannot mean to keep me locked up here?!"

His chuckle was followed by an enraged scream when Hermione realised, he had no intention of letting her go.

Draco barely missed the book that came flying towards his head as he pushed the secret panel that led into the hallway, his small chuckle echoing behind her.

Merlin thought Draco absently rubbing one rough hand over his scar, a sub-conscious habit he had picked up after getting wounded. He had married Astoria before he had been hurt in war and while she had nursed him most sweetly when he had been wounded it had been just before they had discovered she was pregnant, Draco had been able to tell the difference in his lovely wife's behaviour.

A subtle flinch here. A slight deflation of her shoulders when ladies would stare, twitter behind their fans in ballrooms. Many of them suggesting that now his face matched his nature. He didn't blame Astoria, she was after all the much loved and pampered daughter of an Earl, one who had loved both his daughters dearly. And it was also the world she had grown up in, where nothing besides Society's approval mattered and a cut direct was more hurtful than physical injury.

He had been startled when the little country mouse had boldly met his gaze and declared in a sotto voice that his scar didn't bother her. He wrenched his mind from that thought, comparing the gently bread Astoria to a Scottish village virgin no matter how bonny was unimaginable.

Except... the little voice in the back of his head reminded him, you did just compare them.

Putting thoughts of his reluctant guest out of his mind he continued to the kitchens, he would be spending the next few nights in the kitchen he thought with a wry smile. But first he would send Dobby to her with a breakfast tray or maybe go himself... he didn't understand this urge he had to be close to her.

Why... he didn't even know her name yet?

He entered the kitchen where both the Kneezels were fast asleep at the fireplace. His father had once told him... where you find Dragons, you find Kneezels and these two had found Draco and decided to make Glenmorgan Castle their new lodgings. He was merely there to serve them... he thought with a wry chuckle.

The fat orange one had been named Crooks after his thieving nature and the midnight black one was called Sirius, simply because Draco like irony.

They were mostly cats... well as close to cat as not one, might say. Kneezels were those mysterious magical creatures that made your life infinitely better in tiny ways... ways that you don't notice until they're gone. During the last few months of Astoria's confinement the two old Kneezels who had found Draco on a port at Calais and stayed with him for the next ten years, had passed one after another. He had had the cold, shivery feeling of intuition then.

Something was going to go wrong.

Astoria's father had been right in castigating Draco, Draco had known that Astoria's melancholic mood swings were a sign of a deeper problem, but he kept making excuses after all he knew what they did to people who were declared mad.

He knew about the dreadful conditions in Bedlam where they shaved the heads of their patients, parading them for the gentry to look at like animals in a travelling circus. No, his beautiful, vivacious wife wouldn't survive it and he would have rather have her stab him to death than ever willingly admit her to an institution. He should have never allowed himself to get her pregnant, 'twas a sin he would never atone for.

But no matter now, the Kneezels had returned. The black one was particularly attached to his son, he had appointed himself as Scorpius's protector. Like Draco his son had inherited the Dragon's blessing and it was truly a blessing. Draco couldn't even remember a time he hadn't spoken to his dragon, the other half of him had always existed. Wiser than any human, guiding him and on more than one occasion lending him its powers and saving his life.

The change had been beautiful for Draconis, his father had guided him through the steps it took to accept one's beast on his tenth birthday. Of-course the Dragons were oldest of all the changelings and therefore the wisest and also the most in control of their beast.

Unlike kelpies or werewolves, they had full control of the change and the beast within. That was the prize of being selected to merge with one of the most mythical and powerful beasts in all of lore.

Draco enjoyed changing into his full glorious form here in Scotland where the skies were clear and the stars large and within easy grasp, he was a pearly silver scaled dragon with iridescent gold scales... they hadn't named their kinds yet. Even though he knew a man from magical London who was trying to track all the breeds of their species down... changeling or otherwise.

He had to speak to the girl, find out at least what she knew about what was being said about the Dragon in the village so that he could prepare if ever a time came when the good people of Glenmorgan marched up to the keep to try and find him, after all they had done it with the lass.

He collected a breakfast tray from Dobby, brushing aside his elf's dire glare.

"I wish to speak to her, find out what she knows." He said explaining his actions to the elf even though he knew it was hardly custom to confide in the help this way. After all Dobby had been with him since childhood and Draco owed him a great deal.

After the MacNott attack that killed his parents and the rest of their household and Draco's subsequent punishment of being thrown into the Royal Navy at merely 15, it was Dobby who had found him. And then stayed with him despite Draco's staunch refusal to return to the highlands and reclaim his legacy and name.

It was Dobby who had acted as Draco's man of business in London when he had carved himself a lucrative and thriving career in privateering. With the trade routes open to the American colonies, Draco and his men with Her Majesty's blessing seized furs, lumber, tobacco and fine Kentucky bourbon from Portuguese ships, French schooners and Spanish armadas. Draco was rebuilding his family fortunes.

He also knew a well-heeled snob like Greengrass would never give up his precious daughters to anyone he deemed to be a pauper, so Draco conquered one ship after another, one armada after another until Draconis MacFoy himself commanded the largest fleet of privateer ships in the Royal Navy.

He swiftly walked back up to the tower room where he could hear the impatient pacing of his unwilling captive. Unable to stop a grin from forming on his face he pressed the secret panel discreetly and slipped inside the room.

By Merlin he though, catching his breath and moving into the shadows to watch her for a few minutes. Guiltily he reminded himself that there was no harm in just looking.

In comparison to Astoria's pale, aristocratic beauty this young woman fairly crackled with life and vitality. She had wrapped the soft bedsheet around herself and was pacing whilst muttering under her breath in a patch of sunshine in front of the window. The sunlight made it seem like her honey brown curls were a halo around her head. Her soft white skin was flushed with anger or exertion... he couldn't tell.

He wanted to snatch all that wild, sunny energy and be buried in the centre of it, unbidden the image of her soft thighs open and her sultry eyes inviting him to feast on the hidden treasure between them came to his mind. Her teeth worried her bottom lip and he groaned, he had never found a gap between two front teeth so attractive.

"Is someone there?" she turned suspiciously.

"Just me." He said, coming off the wall he was watching her from smoothly, "I've brought breakfast."

She eyed him suspiciously... but he could hear the hungry rumble from her belly.

"Oh, very well then." she said crossly, blushing when he lifted an eyebrow and inclined his handsome head towards her growling belly.

"Eggs." He said, setting the tray down on the bed, urging her to sit... if she sat on the bed, he could keep his distance he thought... congratulating himself on thinking of a solution to keep away from her at all times. "Ham, buns and chocolate."

Hermione wrinkled her nose delicately before clearing her throat, "Well if you're about to keep me prisoner here you should know... I don't eat meat." She informed him solemnly.

"You don't eat meat...?" he said slowly, like he was trying to solve a particularly complex problem.

"Yes, yes... do keep up, Dragon."

"My name is Draco."

"Same thing." She replied airily. In the time he had gone to fetch her breakfast Hermione had come up with a plan... and oh lord what a diabolical plan 'twas.

He had already informed her he had no intention of letting her go until his work, whatever it may be was done in Glenmorgan castle. Unfortunately for Hermione that could mean weeks or even months and she just didn't have time for all that.

So, she had a plan, if he wouldn't let her go when she asked nicely... she'd just make him let her go by annoying him to death.

"Also, Dragon... since you have decided to keep me here against my will and express wish to be returned to my cottage." She wrinkled her nose at him in annoyance, "I have decided that you must make my stay as comfortable as possible." she decreed.

"As comfortable as possible?" he replied slowly.

Hermione wasn't sure she liked the look of that vein throbbing in his throat... but she had chosen her path and had to press on, "Therefore, I have some instructions for you."

She took a fortifying sip of chocolate and delicately bit into one of the buns before continuing.

Draco was stunned at the little chit's audacity. In all his years in the Navy not even his colonels had tried to give him orders like this little country lass was. He was also strangely aroused and glad he was standing by the window and far from the bed where she was enjoying the buns with great enthusiasm. Making him wish it was cock she was moaning over and not some pastry.

"So, as I said..."

"What?" he interrupted in daze, "What did you say?"

"Do keep up Sir Dragon." she said in an exasperated voice... like he was the slow one and she wasn't the insane one. What woman looked at a man like him, tall and scarred with an eyepatch and then doesn't even bat an eyelid in fear?

"I require a great deal of intellectual stimulation." She lectured in a brusque voice, "So if you are to keep me prisoner, I demand that you provide me with reading material, preferably pamphlets of the scientific kind. As I have explained to you before, I am a great believer in the rational thought and the sciences." She said giving him a severe look as if to say... 'look at your bizarre Dragon story... what hogwash.'

Draco's single silver eye glittered at her from the distance but Hermione pressed on ignoring the little flutters of fear and some other unnamed emotion she felt whenever he glared at her like that.

"Also... why you don't have to look so angry Mr. Draco. 'tis only a few books I ask for..." she said innocently as he walked across the room grimly.

"Oh, my little troublemaker I think I know exactly what you're asking for."

Draco had meant the kiss to be a punishment, once she had explained her first demand, he had simply thought to show her who was in charge but as soon as his lips touched hers, he forgot the reason he had kissed her was to show her her place.

While never having been kissed before Hermione responded with ardent and unmitigated enthusiasm. Her lips were soft... plaint and willing. He thrust his tongue between her soft lips, heartened by her enthusiastic response of parting her lips to allow him access into the sweet recess of her mouth. By Merlin she tasted good...

He groaned, it had been months since he had lain with a woman. Her innocent yet passionate response was like opium to his system. He wanted to devour her, to sip endlessly from the honeyed fountain of her lips, to bask in the sunshine of her presence.

Until

Unbidden the memory of another laughing face came to his mind... one with blonde hair, blue eyes and a soft lilting laugh... his wife... Astoria.

He pulled back as abruptly as he had kissed her, his one eye now cold leaving Hermione to look at him bewildered.

"I'll see that you have all the books you can read." He said stiffly, "I apologize for mauling you. That was never meant to happen."

"Oh..." she said in a small voice, deflating because that was her first kiss... magical... until he had opened his mouth and pronounced his regret.

Just as he was about to leave, he heard her haughty little voice pronounce from behind him.

"For that kiss, Dragon... you can compensate me by also providing clothing."

He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he left the tower room.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy and leave a review if you liked the story.


	3. III

Dragon vs. Maiden III  
...

Glenmorgan Keep (a week after the capture of Hermione Granger)  
....

Draco watched as their reluctant guest, who had finally given up her name to him two days ago happily hum whilst crossing and uncrossing her bare ankles while laying on her tummy on HIS bed reading a book. She made an enchanting picture in all honesty, dressed in one of the gowns that Draco had had sent for her earlier this week. The sun painted her like one of the nymphs on the fresco above her head.

She looked to be in the pink of health. Her cheeks glowing with good cheer and her dainty fingers darted out to grab a sugared fig from the plate of cakes and dainty snacks Dobby had prepared for her. She looked as healthy as he looked haggard.

Well he thought savagely... it appeared that one of them was certainly losing no sleep. The little lass in his tower room had driven him half mad with her pranks, demands and sassy attitude. He had managed to avoid her for the most part after that kiss last week and she was equally determined to destroy his peace of mind.

Two days ago, when he had stormed up here to tell her off, she had simply smiled at him sweetly and said that if she was bothering him... he was free to let her go.

Bothering him?! Bothering him!

She was like a poison in his blood, he could do nothing, stay nowhere without her annoying yet enticing presence being made apparent. The hard stone from the kitchen hearth while warm wasn't as warm or half as inviting as the thought of climbing into his own damn bed. Maybe with her still within it.

It wasn't the first thought like that he had had in the past week.

I might just strangle her he thought in a single moment of madness. But even then, her unshriven ghost would probably haunt him of that he was sure.

The last week had been the most frustrating week of his life.

"Miss. Granger." He said curtly, stepping out of the shadows. He had come to berate her again. Not that it made a whit's difference.

He noticed the orange Kneezel had made himself quite at home at the end of his bed. The fluffy little traitor had the audacity to give him a slow blink before jumping down lightly and winding around Draco's legs.

"I'll deal with you later." He muttered to the large marmalade coloured beast.

"Oh, you're here Dragon."

Draco had very deliberately kept his last name from the lass and given her the shortened version of his first hoping that perhaps she had been much too young to remember the names of the laird and lady of Glenmorgan, as it stood she had already confessed to him that she cared little for the village or the village gossip.

So 'twas unlikely she would be able to connect the stories together. But he wouldn't underestimate her penchant for nosiness or mischief.

"I would appreciate it, Miss Granger." he said, keeping his voice deliberately hard, "If you called me by my name."

"Hmmm..." she replied non-committedly. She hadn't even looked at him since he had come in, her gaze riveted on the book she held.

"Have you finally come to free me then?" she asked, sounding far too happy at that prospect than Draco could quite take just yet.

...

Hermione knew she was playing a dangerous game and truth be told she did feel a bit bad for the handsome blond man eyeing her with a mixture of baffled rage and confusion. He had treated her with the utmost kindness, truly her stay in the castle had been the most enjoyable week of her life.

She was treated like a princess, all her food was cooked for her, she could wile the day away reading or writing, eat as many snacks as she wanted, take a nap whenever it suited her and had no chores.

It was true that after the kiss he had given her last week (her first!) she had gone to bed confused and slightly annoyed yet not completely understanding the sort of hurt his cool rejection made her feel.

But the next morning when she had awoken in her usual good cheer, she had put it out of her mind especially with the rare sunshine streaming into her room and as she slowly noticed with all her demands being complied with.

Nearly screaming with happiness, she had examined the large stack of books and scrolls that had shown up as if magically in her room. Most of them were scientific tomes but there had also been a few volumes of fairy tales and funnily enough also a book about dragons which she couldn't help but laugh at.

However, that wasn't all, a thick stack of beautiful white wax candles sat on the mantle now and more woollen blankets had been added to the large bed, but she didn't spot the most special gift of all until the very end... a large trunk full to the brim with clothes made of every colour under the sun.

She had never seen some of the colours before and had only read about them, like the deep pink she assumed was called magenta. Like the plume of a forest bird it shone lustrously, a deep aubergine purple... Hermione had always thought only royalty was allowed to wear such a colour. 'Twas surely sinful for her to try.

Hermione had been sceptical to try them on in the beginning; she knew she wasn't built in the willowy and slim fashion a lot of the girls around her village who were found attractive by the men were. Her breasts were a little too big and her thighs a little too wide and ruefully she pinched the side of her hips... au naturally padded she thought to herself with a giggle.

Being the only child of her parent's Hermione had never known starvation and was aware of some of the snide comments made about how she could do with a good stint of starvation. She agreed... except she really enjoyed food.

She couldn't help but run her fingers of the soft wools and silks in the trunk, so richly made, their hue was almost gem-like.

Maybe just the one she had thought to try... her eyes going automatically to a soft sunflower yellow gown. She held the fine silk up to one cheek, rubbing the softness like she was savouring the feel of a fluffy kitten in her hands.

To her surprise and consternation, the yellow silk had fit perfectly, draping over her curves like the fingers of a beloved, unable to resist she dived back into the trunk. Trying on in quick succession a pale pink poplin with dusty pink rosettes, a jade green wool both warm and flattering and even the flannel nightgown.

She skipped the shoes and complicated underthing's since she doubted, she was going anywhere.

She felt warm and her first urge was to find her surly keeper and hug him for bestowing her with so many precious gifts, 'twas something she was going to have to ward against she reminded herself firmly, especially if she was to escape her handsome yet mysterious jailer.

Not that anyone could accuse her of trying too hard.

She had no doubt that the longer she left her cottage and land the harder 'twould be to get it back from whichever unscrupulous cretin had decided to lay claim on it.

...

She wasn't wearing any stockings he thought on a choked breath, her casually swinging legs showed off her trim, white ankles and dainty arched feet.

Why had he come here again? His gazed was riveted on her soft white calves, she had clearly decide to forgo all the cumbersome under-clothing ladies wore in an effort to be modest.

Ah yes... to demand that she stop trying to extract information from his house-elf. And she wasn't a lady. He reminded himself rather forcefully again. Just a peasant lass slightly better read than most.

Yet somehow that warning didn't seem all that important anymore.

"Say Dragon." she said, casually popping another grape into her mouth and studying him with mischievous brown eyes over the cover of her book. Her gaze finally on his face.

The dragon book, Draco cursed himself now for putting that into her pile.

He had been curious to see if she would make anything off it. He schooled his features back into their hard mask before her next question shocked him even more.

"Is this keep truly haunted? Or is that you I can hear wailing in the night?"

Draco stiffened, he thought that Scorpius's nursery was far enough away that his reluctant guest would never encounter his child... even if she managed to find the secret passage and sneak out. Cursing the cold northern winds that buffeted Scotland for carrying the sound of his son to where she was... the opposite end of the castle he strove to maintain an even voice as he told her.

"You must be imagining things." he said brusquely, "Now Miss. Granger. Pray concentrate, I've come to speak to you about something else."

Suddenly those brown eyes went from mischievous and inviting to perfectly innocent. Like sugar wouldn't melt he thought, shaking his head at her look of innocence.

"Yes." She said, smiling her dimpled smile. Never had Draconis MacFoy been this tempted in his life. She was his opposite in every way, low-born, much too young and sunny in a way that he had never been. All he wanted was to wrap all that happy, wild, young energy around himself as he sunk into her... again and again.

Shaking his head because he had neigh on given up on controlling his lust filled thoughts about his little prisoner. Thinking of her when he had sworn never to love another after Astoria, filled him with shame.

But he knew now it wasn't just him, she had even enchanted his crotchety elf. Normally you couldn't get more than a grunt and a glare out of Dobby, but the elf hadn't stopped singing praise for the little lady as he called her since meeting her after Draco's fateful miscalculation aka kissing her.

"She's a proper love." said Dobby approvingly the other day.

"And she hasn't been able to see past your Glamour?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"If she has, she ain't said nothing." said the elf while puttering around the kitchen, "Anyhows you said you ain't going to have nothing to do with her while she's stayin' here. So why so awfully curious."

The reprobate thought Draco fondly, he had no respect for how to speak to Draco at all. After all it had been many years since Draco had been a lord, merely a solider and a sailor now and the elf had taken on the candid frankness of a Navy man.

After all he was no longer the house-elf to a distinguished magical family but the disgruntled batman of a solider who until a few years ago hadn't a penny to rub together for warmth after categorically refusing to touch his family's fortune if it meant returning to Scotland.

"I'm just curious because she's living in my house." Draco had grumbled.

"Well she's lovely." The elf had declared with touching loyalty, "Proper sweet as well."

"She dropped a bucket of rainwater on your head the first day you met her." he reminded the elf dryly.

"She apologized for that." He said rallying behind her faithfully, "Told me she was waiting for you and never intended to throw it on me in any case."

"How generous of her." Draco replied sarcastically, "I wonder what it's going to be next. Honey in my boots or foot powder in my tooth powder."

Ironically his laughing predictions came true only hours later when he heard his guest screaming like a headless banshee in the tower. Turned out a bird had flown into her room and she had taken that precipitous event to demand his help in removing it from the rafters and while he was very chivalrously doing just that she had filled his Hessians with honey left over from her breakfast.

He had realised only minutes later while he was putting on his jackboots outside her door. He cursed loudly and graphically yet he was unable to stop a grin from forming on his face when he heard a soft feminine giggle from the other side of the tower's wall. Clearly, she had been waiting to hear what would happen.

Back in the present, her warm eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I think you're lying." She declared glaring at him now, "'tis unethical of you to keep me in a haunted castle. If I am to die at the hands of an evil spirit the least you could do is inform me of all the details."

"Miss Granger I assure you, were you to encounter an evil-spirit intent on dragging you to hell... you'd probably escape by annoying them into early purgatory."

Hermione gasped in outrage, "Why that's a perfectly vile thing to say, Dragon. I don't appreciate the aspersions you are casting on my character. Let us all not forget 'tis you refusing to free me and let me go home."

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his temple was throbbing, the phantom pain from the many shrapnel wounds he had received during the war that sometimes reared its ugly head when Draco was particularly tense was making it a misery to even stand up straight.

"Look, Hermione." he said wearily yet gently. Ignoring the mutinous glow in her eyes, "You've been here for a week now, love. What explanation would you give the village for having returned alive while they still think the Glenmorgan Dragon resides in the Keep."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something before falling silent again.

"Once I leave." He said calmly, "I'll compensate you well enough that you can choose to live anywhere. Wouldn't you like to go to Edinburgh?" he coaxed, "You'll be able to attend scientific societies, listen to lectures, go to saloons for thinkers, scientists and poets."

Hermione eyed him sceptically, "Does your money have something to do with those large ships moored in the inlet I can see from the window."

Draco chuckled, "You truly are clever, lass." he said admiringly, "Yes that is one of my privateer ship. I command a fleet of many."

"Privateering!" she said, her eyes going wide... "Why that's like being a pirate!"

Noting the disapproval in her eyes he quickly explained, "It's all sanctioned by the Queen, 'tis a part of the Royal Navy."

"I'm not sure the good Reverend would agree." she muttered under her breath before an idea suddenly came unbidden into her mind.

If she played everything perfectly, she thought, studying the man who was now seated on the satinwood chair in her tower room... she just might get everything she ever wanted.

This called for all her negotiating skills, she had been bargaining with vegetable vendors and candlemakers all her life in wait of this moment.

Making her face impassive as if his offer didn't mean much, she looked at him before turning to look out of the window thoughtfully, "It's a good offer." she began, holding up her hand when he looked eager to continue, "However since this wasn't my choice and 'tis likely to have ruined any reputation I have left. I feel like I must demand a higher price than simply money. After all." she said nodding sagely to herself, "It has caused great emotional distress as well."

Draco was simultaneously amused and outraged, the lass should be on Drury Lane with her acting skills he thought with a smirk. With her injured doe eyes and woe begotten smile one would think he was the one throwing buckets on rainwater on unsuspecting men's heads and putting honey in their boots.

Hiding a smile, he said, "Of-course, I am willing to negotiate the terms of our deal."

She flashed him with a triumphant smile, "It isn't an overly large request." she said innocently, "In fact I wouldn't even mind if you withdrew your previous offer in stead of this."

"What is it Hermione." He growled out impatiently.

"I would like to go to the continent and maybe to Jamaica and I wish for you to escort me on your ship. 'tis only fair and it'll be safer than any public trip I could ever make." She blurted out in a rush. It would be her only chance such as this to see the world... or at least part of it.

"No." came the firm and quietly empathic voice, "Absolutely not! Merlin the idea is...is... is..."

Draco seemed to be lost for words, his mouth opened and closed ineffectually like he couldn't even articulate how she had stunned him with her request.

...

It was outrageous. Unthinkable. Draco continued to gape at the girl in front of him.

"I don't think so. And you needn't even spend any money on getting me to Edinburg, if you fulfil this dream of mine, I'll consider us even and return to the village after travelling with you."

"No!" he exploded in rage, "A Navy ship is no place for a lady, the men would pounce on you like a juicy little morsal. Have you no sense of self-preservation, woman!"

"But..." she said bewildered by his anger, "you'll be there too. And you've been nothing but a gentleman to me. I doubt you'd let anyone hurt me."

And suddenly Draco was seized by blind rage, did she not understand anything? The pure innocence of her response made him feel even guiltier about the thoughts he was having.

From her clear brown eyes, he could tell that she had no idea about the raging frustration he felt.

Marching over to her as she studied him while sitting on the bed, he plunked himself down beside her. His previous headache, the prelude to the throbbing behind his now empty eye-socket.

"Hermione..." he began slowly.

She got to her knees and frowned at him, "You look strained." she said abruptly, cutting him off.

"Damnit...listen to me."

She simply ignored him, "Does your head hurt? You're clenching your jaw so tight Draco."

With no regard she leant over him, her small fingers rubbing over his temple and hard jawline.

"The vein is throbbing in your neck." Delicate, butterfly light touches fluttered around his neck and head as she moved closer and closer to him. Close enough that he could see the outline of her nipples against the dress she wore.

"That's enough." He said hoarsely, trying to capture one small hand in his own.

"Don't be silly." she said impatiently, "I am after all a healers child. You needn't worry about me taking advantage of you." She replied with a wink, "I may be a virgin but even I know when someone doesn't like a kiss from me."

You're wrong he wanted to shout, if I thought anymore about kissing you... you'd be on this bed with your legs around my shoulders.

He wanted to stop her, but her gentle fingers were doing wonders to his headache, with soft kneading motions it was like she was draining out the tension and frustration. Without realising it he had sunk down into the soft feathery mattress.

Her fingers continued to work their magic, occasionally brushing the velvet of the eyepatch and his long blond hair out of his face.

Draco could barely keep his eyes open, but the tiny crack that was open could see the lush body straddling him. She was leaning over him in concentration with her small pink tongue poking out from the side of her mouth, a gesture he was sure she wasn't even conscious of.

The soft mounds of her breasts pressed into the side of his chest, as the headache eased, he felt his arousal beginning to fill with blood. More and more, tiny little elements of what made a woman began to drift towards him, her subtle scent, the softness of her thighs as they bracketed his own, the soft mound of her belly where she pressed close to him.

An odd languorous peace filled the chamber which had only moment's ago been the battleground for their argument. He had let the situation get too far out of hand.

Gently he grabbed one of her small hands and drew them close to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on her palm.

"Thank you." He said gratefully, "Old injuries often cause me grief."

Cheeks pinkening at how close she was to him she scrambled backwards and cleared her throat, "Yes well. You mustn't suffer in silence." she scolded.

"I must see to other things now." he said gently, "And I wish for you think of something other than a journey as compensation. To take you on one of my ships..."

He shuddered and shook his head as he got up from the bed. 'Tis unthinkable.

"I don't think I'll change my mind." she said, "'tis really the only thing I have wanted, truthfully. Had my parents been alive, I am sure they would have taken me along on their next expedition."

"Well I am not your parents and my ship isn't a staid merchant vessel. So 'tis out of the question."

He sighed when her lips compressed into a bullish line and her face took on a child's sulky expression, "Very well then my good sir, since you aren't about to change your mind may I suggest returning to behaving like I don't exist in this castle because that is certainly what I am going to do now with you!"

Draco grinned at the angry face glaring at him before replying silkily, "Who will I go to get my temples massaged then, Hermione?" laughing as he turned to go down the tower stairs unable to resist adding, "Or when I want a kiss?"

He laughed even harder as he heard her curse at him on his way out.

...

Midnight

Hermione couldn't sleep.

The infernal wailing wouldn't stop!

She tried punching her pillow into submission and then putting it over her head. She had no desire to go looking for wiling ghosts who sounded like babies, not especially after the disastrous encounter with Draco earlier.

The confounding man was most bizarre, and Hermione found herself muddle headed around him. She hated it, she had always been good at dealing with the men of her village.

Most of them found it hard to keep apace with her but this man... whoever he was... he could be just a thieving pirate for all she knew. Hiding his loot here in Glenmorgan castle. But she found that even the thought of him being a criminal didn't stop her cheeks from heating when she remembered his intense silvery eye looking up at her from the bed today.

With him she always felt like she was one step behind. Confused yet roused by his teasing.

It was most unkind of him to remind her of that kiss. One that neither had enjoyed, she assured herself empathically. Promising to beg an indulgence from the reverend for lying so blatantly to herself.

Whatever had prompted her silly decision to massage his head?!

He had looked awfully strained, she thought to herself. Fine lines bracketing his hard mouth and the farrow in between his eyebrows.

It struck Hermione that a man such as he... powerful and seemingly principled wasn't used to asking people for help. So, she had just jumped in, why ask permission, if you could simply ask forgiveness. 'twas her motto really.

Hefting herself out of her bed she picked up one of the wax candles, it would seem that sprites of the damned sounded suspiciously like a bairn with colic. The sleepy orange cat lifted his head to see what she was doing before apparently finding it totally uninteresting and going back to sleep.

An investigation was necessary... otherwise she doubted sleep would be forthcoming this night.

She had made sure to note when the cat came in during the afternoon, since it clearly knew where the secret catch was to open the door to get out of the tower.

She began to hunt along the walls when she stopped abruptly.

This time along with the wails the wind carried the sound of a low, gravelly voice... humming...?

She knew that voice! Why 'twas the voice of her captor!?

Gaping at the stone walls Hermione could draw but one conclusion...

The Dragon had a baby locked up in the castle with them!

...


	4. IV

Dragon vs. Maiden IV  
....

2 AM- Glenmorgan Keep  
....

Draco looked towards the bed in the middle of the tower room broodingly. How was it that he had to behave like a thief in his own damn bedchamber. Before Hermione had taken over it as his reluctant guest, he had had no special affinity to this chamber.

No indeed he was just as comfortable sleeping on the warm kitchen hearth or on the floor with a thick banket in Scorpius's nursery lest the child fuss overmuch during the night. He had no reason to be fussy regarding his sleeping arrangements since he could certainly remember worse places he had dozed off in and none of them compared to the comfort of waking up covered in the previous night's ash from the grate or to the wailing of an infant. Better the crying of his own child then a French bayonet in his chest.

No, he admitted reluctantly, sipping from his tumbler of Fire Whiskey as he watched the steady rise and fall of Hermione Granger's chest. He was solely drawn to the room's infuriating occupant.

Since the night she had massaged his headache away he had managed to evade her every attempt to speak to him other than the notes she sent him every morning with a new set of demands. Merlin, he loved those notes... he had them saved in Captain's diary like a lovestruck swain.

But the burning curiosity in her eyes couldn't be mistaken and he didn't think he had any answers for the questions she was bound to ask. But he couldn't quite stay away, perhaps stealing into the room whilst she slept wasn't the best of ideas but that was the only time, she was blessedly silent.

Besides... he found a certain comfort in the many long and silent hours he spent watching her from his perch on the parapet of the large window that overlooked the sea.

There was a certain beauty to youth, the exuberance of life simply waiting to be lived, like a new sunflower opening its face towards the sunshine... with no fear of being scorched.

Sometimes Draco felt immeasurably old, like he was his Dragon's age and not his own. While his shifter powers didn't make him immortal, they made him age much slower than an average human, a power that was also granted to any person they decided to take as a mate.

While Astoria had been alive it had been granted to her as well. However Draco had never told her about the legendry magical powers that came of his family's history, in part due to the fact that he was trying to outrun a legacy that for him was shrouded in blood and death, there had also been another much smaller, much more secret part that whispered that had she known she couldn't have accepted it.

He also found Hermione to be fascinating, this pheasant girl raised with the ideas of radical, who read Latin treaties and ancient Greek philosophy. While he had not yet revealed to her who he was he found her bold gaze to be a heady difference from the swooning of aristocratic ladies, the fluttering of fans that hid malicious lies behind red-painted lips and he found her firm touch to be the first of its kind that wasn't the rapacious, greedy and grasping the way most people touched him. To take something from him.

Her touch had been economical... slightly impersonal, hands that had always been used to relive pain... that gave without the expectation of return.

And there also remained the matter of her strange request, 'twas neigh on unthinkable to allow a single woman of any means to travel by herself with no escort. In his experience as well, women had always been more than happy to accept fripperies or money, both of which Hermione had rejected in favour of her bizarre request.

"Are you going to sit there and brood all night long?" the sleepy voice startled him.

Draco stiffened as the lass's curly head emerged from beneath the mound of blankets, she had piled atop herself.

"You haven't been to see me in ages." her voice held faint notes of accusation.

"I... I read your notes." He said sheepishly.

"No matter Dragon... for I have something far more pressing to ask of you." she broke in, almost like she wanted to get all her words out before he could interrupt or distract her. "Is there a child in this Keep?"

"A child?" he said softly, "Ah no... must be the wind, causing you to hear things." he looked away from her, not meeting her narrowed eyes.

...

Hermione knew he was lying... why in the world would he lie about something like this she wondered?

Her imagination went wild with the possibilities of what he could be hiding, perhaps he had kidnapped the child from a wealthy family and was hiding it here for ransom? Or perhaps it was his child and he had committed a hideous crime and had to flee with it?

"There is no child." He said firmly, "Merely a figment of your imagination."

She snorted in disbelief, "Aye and I'm the Princess of Wales."

Clearly desperate for a distraction after having been caught in the room alone with her, he asked her the one thing he had never asked another woman.

"Do you want me to show you something extraordinary?"

Distracted Hermione looked towards him, in the shadows Draco looked particularly malevolent. His eyepatch and long hair only adding to roguish, piratical charm.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Something I'm sure a science minded young lady and a believer of rational thought would have never imagined."

"What?"

"A Dragon..."

...

"This is stupid." She muttered under her breath as the large blond menace in front of her led her up a crumbling staircase.

Draco grinned in the darkness, the idea of shifting in front of her had been spontaneous. Just to keep her from asking questions about Scorpius, talking about his son always inevitably ended up with Draco having to talk about his dead wife.

A topic he avoided religiously.

He knew it wasn't like he could hide the boy from her for too long. If she ended up staying for much longer, she would eventually find her way out of the tower and he had understood enough about Hermione Granger over the course of the last few days that he knew her curiosity wouldn't allow her to leave this mystery unsolved.

Her small shriek from, he assumed a rat, running across her bare toes almost made him laugh. She had laughed at him for a good few minutes when he had told her he'd show her a dragon before agreeing to go up to Glenmorgan Keep's

Battlements serves her right.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince her. For someone who was raised in the isolation of the highlands, as the only child of scholarly, elderly parents Hermione Granger displayed a zest for life and an incurable curiosity that was uniquely her own.

Draco had yet to meet anyone... male or female who devoured knowledge like she did. He wished he could spend more time with her, asking her what interested her so much in the sciences? Had she read Newton? What did she think of Steno's fossil proposal?

She also enjoyed the classics, her first list of book requests had included the Iliad and Virgil, apparently, she was translating Catullus for the village reverend.

Since he tended to avoid her, she had taken to writing him notes that he got when Dobby collected her breakfast tray. She wrote long rambling letters describing the reasons she asked for certain books, thanking him for providing her with ample candles to do her translation work late into the night.

"Sometimes I have to physically pry myself away, since you have been kind enough to provide enough parchment. (Something that I could never take into account whilst purchasing paper myself.) I find it hard to pull away long enough to go to bed."

Of-course he knew she did sleep, since he had watched her. If only covertly.

For someone raised around very different sort of women and having married into a family as pure and ancient as his own. She was the most fascinating person he had ever met. He had never been confronted with such democratic ideals in a woman before.

Whilst he was Scottish and craved freedom for his country despite the betrayal of its people, he had always assumed a free Scotland would look much like the Scotland of old. Clans that looked after their people and a king.

Two days prior she had requested a book written by her parent's friend, some radical named Harry Lynch who had written about the local democracy in the Thirteen Colonies. She had justified asking for her book in her note to him that morning by saying.

"I find the idea of democracy wonderful. Isn't it absolutely amazing to think that we could all be judged the same under law, no man is king and that your status in life; be it peasant or noble lord 'tis not determined by who your family is and who's blood and how blue runs in your veins because all are one before the law. Life starts of the same in a democracy... think of it like a race. In a monarchy some people begin the race metaphorically limp and some with our same metaphoric wheels. It's rigged unfairly for a man with no name and no money. In a democracy your name doesn't matter. I find myself fascinated and wish to read Sir Lynch's account of what he witnessed in America"

(*A/N- While the British still controlled America then, certain forms of local democracy were not only popular and but also well-practiced. Essentially with the people of the colony governing themselves independent of the British Empire. As we all know a few decades after this story is set America would completely secede from the British Empire.)

The truth was he found those notes to be the best part of his day, he devoured them, feeling a keen sense of loss if she had no additional notes to add to her list of wants. It was those same notes that made the trickster in him rise.

He wondered for a woman obsessed with facts and science... how would she take to the ephemeral?

They reached the roof and he gallantly held the crumbling gate open for her. Feeling a curious sense of excitement as she brushed passed him.

"So, where's the Dragon then?" she asked in a mocking voice. Sliding him a mischievous half smile, "Don't tell me you have brought me out into the cold from my warm bed under false pretences."

...

Draco simply gave her a small, arrogant smile before warning her to step aside.

Hermione for the first time was struck at how regal his bearing was, maybe it was because before this night they had only spend a handful of minutes in each other's company. She also felt that this was the first time she was glazing upon the real Draco... he kept all his secrets, but she knew from his bearing that Draco wasn't the kind of man who hid in crumbling castles. He was a man of action.

The small, arrogant smile told her one thing, that whoever she thought this man was, 'twas probably not the entirety of him. While mulling over that thought she stepped aside as he directed only to be blinded by a flash of radiant light.

"What in the world?!" she cried out in alarm. A large elegant shape emerged as the shadows began to clear from her vision.

"It can't be..." she whispered.

Before her stood the most magnificent creature, 'twas no doubt who it was as it stared at her with one intelligent mercury eye. She hadn't noticed him shuck his clothing in the dark and it was the first time she saw the scar that covered his puckered right eye. It was barely healed, still red... even in this form around the edges.

But lord... the Dragon was truly magnificent, he was as large as one of Draco's own ships yet sleek and silvery... in the moonlight where he stood motionless regarding her with his intelligent gaze... his scales shimmered like the prized pearl of a sultan.

Draco wasn't just any dragon, she now understood why he was in Glenmorgan. A Dragon of Pearl... the symbol of the MacFoy Clan. 'Twas the same feeling she thought in a daze that one experiences when they see a magnificent yet vicious act of nature... like a thunderstorm... Draco's Dragon's beauty was in its fierceness.

A powerful sensation of being in the presence of a powerful being overwhelmed her.

He was Draconis MacFoy... the last son of his now dead name. While gazing into his eye she made a promise then and there. She wouldn't give his secret up to the people of the village.

He had taken a clearly calculated risk in showing her his other form, 'twas a sign of trust she could never break. She understood what this show meant, it meant I am what they say I am... but I cannot help them, or I will not help them.

Draco in dragon form waited for her to approach him. Her curiosity sorely tempted she did just that, stepping into the moonlight with him.

The silver scales were cool to her touch, it 'twas like each held a contained flame within, she wondered how he'd look during Aurora's hour. If the suns dying rays would paint him all over in the subtle colours of golden and amber.

"It's very fitting that you appear silver like your eyes but hold the golden radiance of your hair in the shifting colours of your scales." she whispered, caressing his large reptilian nose with gentle fingers. "Aren't you going to offer me a ride on your back, Sir Dragon." she teased... laughing when she heard him chuff.

And just like that the Dragon's form melted away like mist, Hermione craned her head to catch a glimpse of Draco... or rather Lord MacFoy's naked backside but despite his slight limp he moved much too fast for her. Dressing with the quick ease of having been his own valet for so long.

"So, my dear." He said, emerging from the darkness while buttoning his lawn shirt, "Was that worth being woken up in the middle of the night?"

Hermione gave him a small smile, not knowing how to approach this man now that she knew who he was.

"You've been letting me speak to you any old way." she said, edging away from him, "'Tis your castle... even till now I thought you'd be a thief."

"I am a thief." He said with a tender smile, "I'm Privateer remember."

"Why are you here?" she asked uncomfortably, "I know 'tis not because you wish to play Laird to your land now despite you showing me what you are."

"Why is that what you wish to talk about and not the Dragon."

"Because despite my insistence that magic and creatures such as you didn't exist, I do also live in the highlands where perhaps a wee bit of superstition has made itself a home within my brain. Besides I can hardly be superior now, can I... since you have proven me soundly wrong."

"So, you have no questions about what you just saw?"

"Just the one I asked... why are you here My Lord? You know it will give the village false hope if even a whisper that you are the true son of the last Laird of this clan. I'm afraid not everyone is as in favour of democracy as me, around these parts."

"I'm here for reasons that have nothing to do with being Lord here." He said turning away from her, "I have only desire for peace and privacy. I would..." he said clearing his throat and looking away, "Hope that you wouldn't..."

"Not if you give me good reason not to..." she said looking at him expectantly.

"My wife died..." he said after a long moment of silence, his voice surprisingly devoid of any emotion. "She was... sick. I simply wish to stay in Glenmorgan long enough to heal from the wound of her death."

Hermione made a sound of compassion before moving closer to him, "It must have been horrible."

"It was my fault." He replied, shrugging off her offering of comfort.

Hermione gazed at his back in disbelief before snorting, "Why yes My Lord Dragon... 'twas your fault nature decided to sicken your wife." she said sarcastically, "Getting sick isn't anybody's fault Draco, sometimes the people we love are taken from us tragically and before it is their time. There is no logical to the way Death picks its victims. To assign blame for it is like an ant trying to play God of the universe."

"You always have the answers don't you." He said savagely, startling Hermione with his vehemence, "Does one of your books have the answer to how I'm supposed to stop blaming myself or is this one of your home-grown peasant homilies."

Struck by the vicious anger in his gaze she withdrew from him like a rabbit trying to escape a hunter's snare, "There's no need to be cruel." she whispered.

"No! No... don't go... I'm sorry." he grabbed her upper arms remorsefully, turning her to face him, "I'm sorry love... I didn't mean that. I can be an awful bastard sometimes... it just makes me raw speaking about Astoria."

"You must have loved her a great deal." she said softly.

"Clearly not enough." He said with a bitter laugh, his hands gentling on her skin... "If I loved her so bloody much why after only five months am, I thinking about you."

Hermione was struck speechless, she let out a little sound of distress as his hands tightened. He was looking down at her with the expression of a starving man, a starving man about to be hung.

There was obviously more to the story than he was telling her.

"Merlin forgive me." He whispered looking up at the sky briefly."Say no now." His intense mercury eye looked into her own deep brown ones, "If you want me to stop say no now because once I kiss you..." he warned sombrely.

Hermione framed his rugged face in her small palms, she had to make it less heavy for him. He would kiss her but only because tonight his self-control and guilt was less than his desire and she knew this.

"Hmmm it's rather odd that you're asking the woman who was supposed to be a sacrifice to you, oh mighty Dragon... for permission."

Draco grinned down at her briefly like he appreciated her light-hearted response to his shameful confession ... "Well my lady... can't have you thinking I'm any more than an animal, can I?" before notching his mouth against hers.

Hermione stretched up to meet his luscious invasion, her arms going around his neck to play with the long silvery hair at the base of his nape. His confining arms loosened around her.

Draco kissed slowly and with skill, he gentled her lips open before plundering the soft recesses of her mouth... drawing intense sensation as her tongue rubbed against his. His mouth on hers played... gentle and sweet and then rough and demanding... he would tangle his tongue with hers.

They could have stood kissing for hours. The heat of his body warmed her, and she rubbed the tips of her aroused breasts against his chest. It was strange... but the moment he touched her it felt like every rational thought evaporated from her mind.

The fine lawn shirt he wore hid none of the thick curly blond hair of his chest and Hermione felt a deep ache to rub herself against his warm, tensile muscles.

Lost as she was in his kisses, she hardly noticed his hand unbuttoning her flannel nightgown.

Hermione shivered as the cold night's air rippled across the bared skin of her breasts. His firm fingers soothed her beaded nipples as he moved his mouth from her lips to the sensitive underside of her chin. She had never known herself to be sensitive there, but his skilful mouth made the slide of his lips the most sinuous experience in her life.

His cheek felt rough under her touch, but he was so warm and the cold air around them drove her even deeper into his arms.

"Sweet..." he murmured hoarsely as he placed tender, biting kisses along her neck and throat.

Hermione arched up, wanting him to continue the tender assault on her breasts. He laughed gently before reaching down and drawing one pale rose coloured nipple into his mouth. Switching from breast to breast... as if he couldn't decide.

The suction was incredible... the sensation caused a strange wetness to soak Hermione's gilded nether curls. Astonished at the new ways her body reacted to his touch, her own hands went to her belly where a tingling in its lower half made her restless for... more.

"More Dragon." She pleaded softly, "You're driving me so wild..."

"Greedy little thing..." he chuckled into her ear. He seemed fascinated by her round, heavy breasts. His large, callused hands gently fondling the tender fair globes.

They stood in such stark contrast, dark to light. His leonine handsomeness, blazing and fierce in comparison to her own gentle beauty. His skin callused and scarred, hers soft and fair. His body hard planed where hers curved gently. Opposite pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly.

"Please?" she whispered, "Oh please... please... please..." her eager hands ran up and down the length of his long blond hair, tugging him towards her. "Make love to me."

Draco groaned, "This has to stop... you'll drive me insane, lass." He wanted nothing more than to press her down into the ground, shield her from the world as he drove himself into her soft core as her body wept for him.

But he was a fucking gentleman... and this had gone too far.

He had never expected the pure, ardent abandon she responded to him with. It had shocked him. Her desire shining like the last sunflower during autumn. But regrets of a lifetime where he had lived, loved and lost... they were too heavy. Even too heavy to be wiped away by the blazing desire of a woman who could've been his had he been a different man.

This woman deserved to be loved...

"No!" she whispered "Why are you stopping... did I displease you?" she cried out in loss as his fingers gently moved away from her breast. The warm arousal that was slicking her thighs going cold.

Apparently, the last cold gust of wind had blown Draco's shields back up. The temporary disarmament was now over.

"No darling love... your first time cannot be on the roof of a crumbling castle in the biting cold." He said, shaking his head regretfully, "What was I thinking?"

"Then take me back to the tower and make love to me."

"No!" he brought her closer to his chest, breathing heavily. His silver eyes ablaze with desire and regret, "This isn't how it's meant to be Hermione, love. Your first time is special, you must gift it to a more worthy man. Someone whole. Someone who can love you."

"Oh, for god's sake!" she said pushing against his chest in disgust, "St. Michael spare me from sanctimonious men. In case you haven't noticed this isn't London, My Lord and I'm not some shrinking rose with stars in her eyes." she said mockingly.

"A woman's first time is always special and I'm not the man who you should waste yours on."

"Oh dear..." she laughed pulling away from him and wrapping her own arms around herself to ward of the sudden chill, "What do you think? That I've been saving my innocence for a prince on a white charger? I could have tossed my skirts for any lad and had a husband, My Lord. 'Tis by choice I remain unwed and untouched. 'Tis only the upper class that attach such foolish notions of chastity upon their women. This virginity... 'tis worth naught... for I have nothing to offer with it, not a title... nor any wealth or land."

"You may feel differently if you were to meet a man you could truly love. You may regret not having given him your all."

She scoffed with a mocking smile, "You are a fool not to take what is freely given, Lord MacFoy and an even bigger fool if you believe that my innocence is included in all that I can give a husband. 'Tis naught but a rusty stain of blood after the first night in bed not a sign of my intelligence, my worth, my beauty, my resilience or any of the other aspects of myself that make up my all."

Stunned Draco watched as she wound the blanket, she had brought out with her around her shoulder and offered a stiff bow.

"If you won't mind, My Lord. I shall return to my bed... I find the night suddenly too chill for my liking."

Why was he experiencing the curious sensation of regret...

He had done the right thing.

Hadn't he?

...

What was this feeling... humiliation, rage... sadness, why had she expected this man to be any different. She was no better than the village hussy... fooled by a scarred, blond Adonis only to find the same cabbage in his brain that every other man beside her dear Papa seemed to have.

What a night though...

She paused on her way down the crumbling stairs. In the last half an hour of their encounter he had muddled her mind so badly that she hadn't even remembered his magnificent change into a pearly dragon with scales the colour of gold and amber. 'Twas like something only a Pendragon would do...

This made her question many things, what would it be like to study the ancient ways of these creatures who had lived among mortal humans for so long? Were any of the ancient tales, now only remembered through bawdy tavern songs and folk dances, true?

Her curiosity was aroused, and she wondered if there was a library at Glenmorgan where Draco's father had kept any books regarding the magic she had witnessed. That was when another thought struck her... she was alone... outside the tower.

She could leave...

Or better yet, she thought biting down on her lip and mentally kissing returning to her small cottage or the village, goodbye... after all if nothing else she was sure Draco was honourable enough to not leave her homeless after all their *ahem ahem* inconvenient encounters... the man felt guilty enough.

He seemed to think that everything was his responsibility. His wife's death, his rather inconvenient desire for her. Who was she not to take advantage of his relentless guilt?

She got the sense from their conversation before he had kissed her that he didn't like talking about his wife.

She wondered if he was still in love with her.

That sent a curious sort of ache somewhere around her heart.

Very smart Hermione Granger, how predictable of you to be interested in the man who has an ancient magical family legacy, is a peer of the realm, is potentially a pirate (legal?) and seems to still be in love with the ghost of his dead wife.

It was fine...besides she thought guiltily creeping towards where the wailing came night after night... she was only trying to help the man. It couldn't be good for ones soul to carry so much self-castigation around. No wonder he always looked like he was wearing a shroud of death.

She crossed her fingers and sent up a little prayer for luck. If he was as shaken by their intimacy as she was hopefully, he would remain outside for a while and forget about locking her up in her tower and she could do a little snooping to see if she could unravel another one of her mysterious captors secrets.

After all, hadn't her parents always said her curiosity was one of her best qualities.

She crept along the stone walls, mindful of the small remnants of glass and ceramic left behind after the siege and of-course the horrid little rodents that seemed to have made the abandoned castle their home. That fat orange beast wasn't earing his keep, the only cat she had ever seen who seemed to prefer napping to eating.

She made a mental note to ask Draco about the cats and his butler; man of all affairs who brought her all her meals ... suddenly she was suspicious that she was living in a castle entirely inhabited by beasts of the lore.

That was if he ever decided to show his face to her after tonight's disaster.

Tonight, there seemed to be an almost wilful silence, like the little baby who had been crying all week had only stopped today because she had come searching for it.

Well baby Hermione thought with grim determination... since I'm throwing away my one chance to escape to stay in this godforsaken crumbling heap, with the worst... most handsome yet contradictory man she had ever had the misfortune of meeting then she would damn well spend all night looking into one room after another until she was satisfied.

However, as it turned out she didn't have to go very far, a large black cat with shimmering green eyes wandered out of a doorway in the Eastern tower. The tower was in a part of the castle she had never been to before and had simply come to by following where she thought the noise of the baby crying had come from the night before.

With a triumphant little laugh, she tried the door and was pleased to find it open.

She quietly crept up the stairs and peeked into the room.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are loved and appreciated


	5. V

Dragon vs. Maiden V  
.

Previously...

Hermione gently pushed the door open...  
.  
Glenmorgan, Scotland  
.

It was a nursery!

It seemed to be the only other furnished room in the castle, done in rich greens and sunny yellows there were plenty of shelves, toys and what seemed to be books for children scattered around. The clear impressions of a small, plump hand covered in either dirt or ash ran the length of the ruined wainscotting and many of the stuffed toys look like they had suffered the overzealous attentions of small hands.

None of the keeps stone peeked out for the floor was covered in lush oriental carpets. And large swags of velvet lined the rooms to lend warmth. Overall the effect was warm and cosy. Making her want to curl up in one of the large satinwood chairs that were scattered around.

Why... the room was better furnished than her own, she thought with a snort.

Why hadn't Draco mentioned he had had a child with his wife? Hermione was curiously hurt by the assumption that he wished to hide his child from her.

There was a cradle near the fire where Hermione almost got the fright of her life. On a chair a small knobbly creature with bulbous ears was sleeping in a long jumper and nothing else.

Was that an elf...?

She felt fairly lightheaded... she felt her forehead for signs of a fever, 'twas almost too much for one woman to take in during a single night. It was like she had woken up in the middle of the night and walked into an alternate reality.

The kind that made her want to go back in time and box her own ears for being so arrogantly sure about; where dragon's existed and where elves and children hidden in crumbling towers were the norm.

'Twas like something out of a fairy story. She ought to ask Draco if he had a special magical garden that grew beanstalks that went to the realm of giants or if his cats occasionally wore boots and talked.

Hermione quietly snuck up to the cradle that the large eared elf seemed to have been told to watch.

It was beautiful... made of mellow golden oak. Clearly a family heirloom, it seemed to be carved lovingly by inexpert hands.

If there ever was a thing Hermione Granger was sure about it was that the child in that cradle was undoubtedly Draco's. At her very first look she was struck at the almost angelic beauty of the small cherub that rested in his very fine and lordly green felt cushion lined cradle.

Oh my... she thought with a little gasp. He was adorable...

Is this what Draco had looked like as a child? She couldn't reconcile the image of the hardened lord with the angelic loveliness in the cradle.

She bit down on her lip, looked up at the heavens as if to ask for desperately needed help.

How was she to resist the man... and moreover how was she to resist the baby?! Particularly since the father looked like a fallen angel and his son; a renaissance cherub.

He was a plump little lad, with the wildest, curliest white blond hair she had ever seen. Her hands fairly itched to cuddle his cuddly, plump body close. Warm as he was by the fire his cheeks had taken on a sweet pink hue. One small fat foot was clutched in another equally small and fat hand.

The silky long-haired black cat that had led her to the room blinked at her with its beautiful jewel green eyes. Putting one soft paw on her forearm as she knelt down to look at the child.

She noted laughingly that the cradle was large enough for both the child and his pet which was good thing since the little boy's other chubby hand held the cats tail in an iron grip.

It didn't seem to bother the feline, who got bored quickly of Hermione and stretched out to lie down besides his little friend. His little paws kneading the velvet and felt pillows.

She didn't want to speak, the precious silence and the small child in the room made her feel odd... broody... what would it be like to hold a snuggly baby of her own?

Before she had any more time to contemplate that thought she heard the distinct thud of Draco's boots coming up the stairs.

Well she wasn't going to hide she thought with a firm nod. It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong, besides... the man had essentially imprisoned her... lord or not that wasn't legal surely.

At least she didn't think it was but then again one never really knew where one stood in terms of the law when one was of the female sex.

You could have escaped said that smug little voice in her head.

Well 'twas far too late to think about now...

He opened the door and glowered at her, hissing out "Why am I unsurprised to find you here?"

Hermione tried to be dignified but she did cringe a little at his fury. He hadn't really put his days as a solider behind him.

"Hermione do you remember me locking you up in a tower. Specifically, to stop you from wandering."

"Yes..."

"And what is this if not 'wandering'?"

"You know you can't order me around in such an autocratic manner, I'm not one of the men on your crew. Besides as the jailer 'tis your responsibility to keep me locked up and not mine to comply with you. " she sniffed delicately.

"Come here." he glowered.

"No, I'm not sure I will, thank you..." she said, delicately stepping behind the crib.

The argument was being conducted in a series of rather heated whispers.

Draco glared at her, "When I get my hands on you, I'm going to take you across my knee. Merlin! None of my men have ever given me half the trouble you have. Especially! Especially in this short amount of time! I feel like I've aged ten years since you've been here!"

Hermione gasped, her eyes growing rounded and hurt.

"Damnit! Hermione! I didn't mean it like that." His voice rose, waking the infant and stopping her from walking out of the room.

The disgruntled little creature in the chair woke as well.

...

Draco having not understood how he had so spectacularly lost control of the situation now had a crying infant and a woman with tears in her eyes.

He didn't know why he had lost his temper, after all she was right. If he hadn't been distracted by her and her sweet mouth, this would never have happened.

"Go Dobby." He told the elf, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I made the mess, let me sort it out."

Only too happy to leave, the house-elf scuttled out of sight. Shooting Draco an anxious look, after all it had been an age since Dobby had been caught in flagrant delicato by a human which meant without his Glamour.

He walked in, grabbing Hermione's clenched hand and studied her small pinched mouth ruefully. The woman had the patience's of a saint, he thought.

Draco had nearly made love to her and then insulted her all in the same night. It wasn't well done of him, he knew but there was something about Miss. Granger that made him fly out of control. All that perfectly leashed emotion bound in iron chains stuffed down to the deepest depts of his soul wrenched free in her presence. It fairly drove him mad.

He took her hand, reluctant as she was and walked to the crib.

There was no hiding it now... she had seen Scorpius.

As usual his son was voracious crier, he cried like he did everything in life.

Wholeheartedly.

Blessedly Scorpius was mostly a happy baby, but Draco still found it hard to be around his son. Scorpius's blue eyes reminded him too much of Astoria.

"Hello son." he said softly, picking up the hiccupping little boy. Scorpius smelled like fresh cotton and that special baby smell. Draco surreptitiously sniffed his little behind to make sure he hadn't soiled his napkins, but the boy seemed well fed and blissfully dry.

The little boy stopped crying as soon as he was in his father's arms. His cornflower blue eyes, only slightly unfocussed from sleep, resting on his father's face.

At ten months old, Scorpius was walking now and could hold his little head up despite the weight of his curly hair. The little boy swiped playfully at his father's long hair... bringing a large hunk in a small fist to a gummy, toothless little mouth.

Draco laughed gently before looking at Hermione.

"I'm very sorry, treasure." He said gently, "'Twas not my intention to say all those things. You are wonderful person... it's simply that I have become more difficult to live with and took my anger and frustration out on your right now."

"That was hurtful Draco. I didn't choose to be here with you." she whispered, "You hurt me, and I know what you're trying to do now."

"And what is that, love?"

"You're trying to win me over whilst holding a baby in your arms."

"Is it working?" he asked with a boyish smile.

Hermione couldn't look at him. They were so different, this brooding man who had seen so much tragedy in his life; his parents dead, his wife dead, being a father to his son while grieving the death of the woman he loved, the endless violence he had witnessed while serving Queen and country. It would be enough to drive any man insane.

Hermione had lost her parents as well and felt loneliness too, but she had never loved another person with her whole heart or fought in a war.

She wondered what it would be like to experience such a transcendent connection with another human being only to have it taken away from you so soon. She couldn't risk it with this man. Magnificent as he was... he would also break her heart irrevocably.

"Aye..." she said softly, "It's working all too well."

She looked at Draco hesitantly before lifting a finger and running it down the baby's downy cheek. Unaware of the tension in the room the little boy kicked out at his father, giggling happily until both the adults looking down at him each broke down in chuckles of their own.

"Truce, Miss. Granger?"

"Truce Lord MacFoy, however there will be no more kissing." said Hermione, looking away from the handsome, scarred visage staring down at her quizzically.

Draco nodded solemnly.

"No more untoward touching either." she murmured sadly, reaching out and holding Scorpius's plump little foot. "I cannot afford to fall in love with a man who still loves a ghost."

"Let me take you back to your room." he replied putting the child down in his crib again. His mouth twisted in a guilty grimace.

She refused to look at him.

It's for the best... Draco assured himself. For the best.

...

Ronald Weasley was whistling as he headed to his home... his new home.

Life was good. He had enough money for ale, a fresh harvest to sell in the market and chickens that laid a fair number of eggs.

Getting rid of the Granger girl had been a stroke of genius. He had been able to lay claim to her cottage and land within the first week of her not returning. Besides a few disapproving looks no one had had the courage to say anything to him. After all he was the one who had come up with the plan that would save the village.

He slowed as he approached the darkened castle where only two weeks ago, they had brought Hermione to be the Dragon's sacrifice. He shuddered a little whilst looking up at the imposing stone walls of Glenmorgan. The soft cawing of ravens making it seem evermore ominous.

The Keep looked the same as it always did but as he walked past it today after darkness had already fallen, he couldn't help but feel a shudder raking down his back. The wind still howled in the upper battlements making eerie, macabre sounds. 'Twas no way that malevolent spirits dinne haunt Glenmorgan Keep. He made the sign of the cross hastily as he began to cross to the other side.

Perhaps he shouldn't have consumed so much ale for he was sure he could hear the ghostly sound of a woman's laughter. Fearfully he lifted his head to look at one of the small windows, his breath coming in short, anxious gasps as candlelight illuminated a tall, cloaked figure and then to his surprise... a woman.

He had seen the human form of the Dragon... and that woman... who was she? A ghost? A banshee? Some other horrific beast of lore...

It couldn't be the Granger girl, could it?

She was supposed to be dead.

Beside his anxiety, Ronald felt another emotion grow... rage. If she was indeed alive, he thought with a malicious smirk he would make sure to see the deed of her death done.

He wouldn't give up his land now. Not after burning all her books and settling in properly as he had done. After all that Brown chit was finally paying attention to him as well, getting Lavender Brown to be his bride would be an amazing coup. She was after all the best-looking woman in the village and now she was finally considering him with his newly acquired land. If he lost the cottage, she'd never look his way again.

After all Ronald wasna the strongest in the village nor the wealthiest.

In order for him to retain his newfound prosperity Hermione Granger had to stay sacrificed... shooting another terrified look towards the now dark castle he hurried home.

His mind churning with what he must do next.

...


	6. VI

Dragon vs. Maiden VI

Hermione stretched delicately on her bed, arching her back and allowing her fingers to grip the luxurious silk under her. Sleep had been elusive the last few days and moodily she propped her chin up on an arm.

Her gaze was once again caught in how the fading light illuminated the fresco above her head. She marvelled at how it had remained unstained by age... relatively that is. Its rather titillating images, very French inspired were hardly a great accompaniment to the sombre mood she was in.

Her discovery of Draco's... she still found it hard to remember to call him by his proper title... son hadn't brought down any of the taciturn man's walls. In fact, it had merely reinforced them further.

The prior two weeks of her confinement hadn't been a true prison sentence in that she had the butler to speak to, the orange kitty that seemed to want to spend all day in her sunny tower and even those rare and shockingly intimate moments with the very man who remained at the top of her mind no matter how hard she tried to banish him. But now... she hadn't left her tower room in the last four days.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask but didn't feel like she had the right to. Questions that were painful, that may give her answers that would cause her own heart to break.

But she hadn't seen Draco in at least four days, her meal tray's would appear in her room like magic and disappear the same way. No orange cat... no elf butler and no mysterious Dragon. Her desire to know about this new world he had shown her was muted by her misery.

She lacked nothing; she was fed, warm, well dressed and with entertainment in the form of stacks and stacks of books. Yet she was melancholy... she was lonely and miserable with no one to speak to and with no end in sight to when she would be able to return to some sense of normalcy. And when she did return, how would she go on?

She had also stopped writing him notes, keeping her end of the bargain. There was only so much one could knowingly risk for a man who found it hard to even look at her after taking her first kiss.

Maybe... maybe it was time for her to really try and leave.

Before she could talk herself out of it like she had every time since she had arrived at Glenmorgan Keep, Hermione lifted herself off the bed and wandered over to where the secret hatch to open the tower to the rest of the castle was.

She had managed to find it quite by accident a few days prior when boredom and loneliness made her begin to explore the tower room in earnest.

She wouldn't have found it since it was quite cleverly hidden away had she not accidently fallen against the wall.

On her way out she snatched up a pair of soft boots and a warm winter cape with a hood. Surely Draco wouldn't mind if she took them and he wasn't likely to venture into the village to try and find her since that would jeopardize the peace he was trying to find here. And nothing else here belonged to her.

She looked around the tower room sadly before sighing and pressing a finger against the hatch. As her Da had always said 'make a plan, stick to it' she wouldnae allow herself to be sad after all this had been merely a three-week detour from her normal, humdrum life.

It was the life she was born into, she reminded herself firmly. No matter what her opinion, the truth was there was no reason for Draco to want her. He was a laird, aristocracy rarely mixed with peasants. He probably had an English title as well, a Marquees or even an Earl. Impoverished as the MacFoy name would have been, a title as ancient as his own was probably vied over by the bluest of blood.

She shook her head in resignation, her blood wasn't blue... more like the murky brown of a placid cart horse. To allow herself the foolishness of falling in love with him would only bring her heart break. Even though secretly she admitted to herself, she was already halfway in love with him.

Thankfully the evening was cold and windy, she lifted the fur lined hood over her curly hair. She was still dressed only in her flannel nightgown, after all none of the items in that tower belonged to her. Her own belongings were much more humble. Even though she had picked the most sedate of robes from Draco's trunk of treasures, she could feel the rich and soft fur of the ermine rubbing against her cheek and the heavy damask that kept her warm.

It would nae be easy to return to her own humble cottage, she thought in resignation. The eerie silence of the castle had stopped bothering her soon after she had found Scorpius's nursery and so she confidently stole down the wide stone stairs and into the great hall... edging against the wall to make sure she couldn't be spotted as she went through the bailey and out the front door. Though the cold wind made sure no one was wandering around the dafty halls.

She had no doubt that Draco would soon discover her deception and would be enraged, yet she could give him no more verbal promise than her word. She swore that she would not allow the secret of who really lived with the halls of the decrepit Keep return to the village. Let the men and women of Glenmorgan think what they wished of her. But to expect her to stay here was too much.

The forested land that stretched out in front of the Keep looked ominous. She couldn't help but feel a shiver go down her back as she studied the long shadows of ancient trees that looked like the bony fingers of a witch.

After Draco's revelation, his ability to change and the creatures that lived around him she found herself more apprehensive of the night. She wished for the days when her trust in only the practical and tangible weren't as shaken as they were today. Wishing for a scant second that she wouldn't have met the man who had turned her upside down and inside out.

"The Dragon lives a great deal longer than a mere human. An ability they can grant their chosen mate, whomever they may be. Human, beast or witch."

Suddenly the words came to her mind unbidden, from the book about dragons that had been hidden in one of the stacks that arrived in her room. Now she wondered if any of it was true and if it was, how old Draco was?

With a deep breath she berated herself for dawdling and moved away from the Keep's courtyard, walking out the broken gates towards the wood that would lead her back to the village.

Maybe 'twas merely her imagination but the moment she stepped away from the Keep it felt like a shiver of apprehension stunned and paralysed her for a scant second.

...

Draco was drinking... in fact he had been drinking for a long time now. It was getting harder and harder to lift his bleary eyelids. The wind howling around the castle was natures mournful melody to his own conflicted and angry thoughts.

Why was it so fucking silent? He thought with a surly grunt, closing his eyes when a shaft of pain pierced through the husk that was now his eye socket. He lifted one large hand to massage the pain away. The memory of small, firm fingers kneading his temples unwelcome to his stormy mood.

He couldn't stop thinking about the wee lass upstairs in his bed. In his drunken stupor he stumbled from where he was drinking on the floor leaning against the flame blackened walls to his large chair in front of the fire.

Merlin, he thought bitterly, he used to love coming down to the kitchen when he was a lad. He used to sneak fresh apple tarts made by their elves before going to fly in Dragon over the glen's and lochs surrounding Glenmorgan, he could still in his mind hear the crunch of the crisp, flaky pastry and taste the tart sweetness of the MacFoy orchard apples smothered in honey.

Of-course now they used the kitchens for a great deal more, after all they were the only part of the castle that had survived the MacNott's flames. He spat on the grey stones in rage. The day would come for him to meet Theo on the field of battle and when that day came Draco would lance him through the heart. Ending his filthy bloodline. He would pull Theo MacNott's heart from his chest and burn his corpse.

He would end him, destroy him like Theo's father had destroyed his family. He would make sure the MacNott family was severed at the root. 'Twas not a new obsession, merely a mounting one.

'Twas true what they said, Dragons were known for their patience but also their cruelty and Draconis MacFoy, Laird of Glenmorgan had waited for ten long years. His patience was beginning to wear.

Maybe he thought bitterly, swigging the Fire Whiskey from the bottle itself as he stared into the flames, maybe just maybe once that bastard was dead... Draco could have a measure of peace in his miserable life.

He might never return to London, he might take his son with him on the ship. Sail far away from England and Scotland, far away from the memories that haunted his every waking breath.

He still dreamt of Astoria, she gave him no peace... she allowed him no sleep, no rest. He always saw her the way she had become during the last few months of her life when the woman who he loved to the point of insanity changed into something... else.

The madness in her eyes and eventually the pain. He didn't know how to speak to her, how to make her understand ... that her delusions were making it impossible for him to embrace her the way she still wished towards the end of their marriage.

In his home in London, Astoria's quarters remained untouched. After her death in Yorkshire he had been unable to go into those rooms, where her sweet gardenia scent still lingered and the painting he had commissioned of her by Jean Baptiste Monnoyer stood in all its solemn beauty.

He leaned his head back against the chair, even now when he closed his eyes, he could see the painting in his mind's eye.

Astoria... in profile, a pale and delicate pink rose hanging in between her fingertips carelessly as she looked over her shoulder with a coy half smile. Her blonde curls were beautiful... so beautiful in fact that Baptiste had captured the lustrous quality of their spun wheat shine, he had even captured the pale beauty of her skin. Her shy... cornflower blue eyes showing only a hint of that enigmatic sparkle that drew people to her; men and woman.

He loved that painting.

He had loved that Astoria.

And when she died, she had taken that part of him. His grief was less now, yet still it was profoundly vast. A sea that he couldn't stop himself from downing in.

She had loved her hair...

They had cut it all off so she wouldn't hurt herself the last month of her confinement.

He felt choked by this ever-present tide of loneliness and guilt.

He also felt disgust... he had allowed himself to slip low... to exploit the innocence of the lass who slept above. His hunger for her sweet, unspoiled brightness had made him into an ass. He had taken advantage of her.

When he had first spoken to Hermione he had been taken aback by her candour. She had not learned the ways of ladies, coy smiles and to make a man work for affection.

Her artless joy for the simple gifts bestown upon her had puzzled Draco but had also pleased him. With Astoria he had been used to buying her maybe two or three pieces of jewellery before she selected an appropriate gift that pleased her.

Shaking his head abruptly Draco felt an unbidden surge of rage.

Even now.

Even now... she pushed in where she wasn't welcome. He had no desired to think of the peasant lass... not when the memory of his beloved was beginning to fade before his eyes. What was he supposed to tell his boy when Scorpius's was old enough to ask Draco about his mother? When he couldn't even bring himself to step into her rooms again.

The delicate crystal of his whiskey glass cracked under the hard pressure of his hand, splintering into a million tiny shards. He cursed as one of the larger pieces got wedged into his palm.

Just as he was about to pull it out Dobby stormed in without knocking.

"Merlin... you've gone an' done it now." said the house elf as soon as he saw Draco's bloody hand. "I'd doctor ye... but ye have a bigger problem than that at the minute."

"What?" Draco barked impatiently.

"'Twould seem your prisoner had escaped..."

...

Just a bit more Hermione reminded herself... only a bit further on till the outskirts of the village and then she'd climb the little hillock behind her cottage.

She could see the lights of the village now, in just a few minutes the path would become a lot clearer, so she had to make sure no one spotted her.

Turning abruptly, she was confronted by two burly shapes detaching themselves from the shadows.

"Well... Well... Well... We cannae have this now can we...what're you doing back here Hermione Granger?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- If Astoria had access to modern doctors and psychologists, they would have diagnosed her with a case of bi-polar disorder and postpartum depression. Another note I'd like to make is I don't hate Ron, I'm merely rather indifferent to his character so I often mould him according to the story I'm writing and unfortunately, he's a bit of a villain in this one hahah


	7. VII

Dragon vs Maiden VII

Previously...

"Well... Well... Well... We cannae have this now can we...what're you doing back here Hermione Granger?"  
...............................................

Draconis did not know what force propelled him from his bitter stupor. Missing? She was missing!?

A peasant chit who had dared defy the Dragon. 'Twas neigh on unthinkable. And for the first time he felt his numbness dissipate, his anger rising from the fetid waters of grief and self-recrimination he was drowning himself in. He didn't wish to examine the cause of his anger too closely. But by all that was holy she was his and a Dragon never gave up his treasure without a fight.

A fight... aye he relished the thought. Grinning a feral smile, he tried to stand, finding himself far more inebriated than he had initially thought. The blood came rushing to his head, making the scar where his eye was supposed to be throb. Also, the new bloody hand he had given himself.

His elf valet gave a mocking smile, "Imbibed a bit much have we, perchance?" Dobby asked in a saccharine tone, dripping in disdain.

Draco glared before chuckling, "Your grandmother would have been ashamed Dobby, your tone lacks deference."

"Aye you drunken sot." grunted the elf, "That wasn't good done of ye. Ye can't just lock a lass up and demand she ask no questions. And kissing her." He shook his head, "Ye are a half-wit. She's a good sort."

High praise from the elf who detested everyone.

"If yer father saw ye now he'd take a cane to yer backside."

Draco scowled, "Look I'm not saying I didn't make mistakes, but it wasn't all that bad. I gave her food, clothes, even books for Merlin's sakes! Do you know how much parchment that lass uses!? I assure you it's far and beyond more than you could guess!"

"Aye you fool, but she had food, clothing and parchment in her own home. Granted, mayhap not as fine as yers but 'twas there all the same and 'twas where she was happy." He said emphatically, "A home to which she cannot return to since you have already kept her here for two weeks now? What was she supposed to say she was doing in an abandoned castle by herself and who gave her, her new fine cape she wore to leave this place? It's a village Master Draconis, not London. Villagers gossip."

"I... didn't think..."

"Aye ye didnae think, the world is different for women as it is and ye are a selfish man."

"Enough." Draco said in a quiet voice, "She cannot return there without being accosted, what is done is done now. I assume her land will have been claimed by someone now and they will not appreciate her return. Let alone the fact that she has no papers to claim the land as her own. I must fetch her back. What is to be done after that, we shall see."

The elf muttered a quick spell under his breath, having the effect of sobering Draco's pounding head. Their magic was crude at best, but the spell did the trick of clearing his head.

He also muttered a healing spell for Draco's hand.

Another foolish injury cause by self-pity, thought the elf sourly.

And then with the military precision gained through years of tender loving care in Her Maj's Navy Draco picked himself up and made his way out the door.

Pistols were out of the question, he thought while marching out of the kitchens and down the dark and abandoned great hall. They were notorious for misfiring and he didn't want there to be a single chance of him hitting Hermione. For now, his fists would be enough, lame though he might be his shifter half was always by his side during combat. Taking on a few men wouldn't be a problem.

The elf wouldn't be able to leave the castle walls as they were bound to certain physical planes as commanded by their masters.

Generally, Dobby had a much wider range of activity especially in London where he had gained his little eccentricities like speaking however he pleased to Draco and swearing.

He chafed at the ancient restraints in Glenmorgan but kept his mouth shut since he felt a strong intuition that Draco's legacy was tied to this old highland keep.

Draco knew finding her wouldn't be hard, there were few ways back to the village where her house was and with his superior shifter senses, he could easily make out the path she had taken.

But he had to hurry, a sense of dread gripped him. In the silence of the forest he had to admit to himself that he had not handled their interactions well especially their more intimate interactions.

She was still young, due to the way the Dragon aged he still looked only a wee bit older than her, but the reality was a little different. This was not his first brush with such intense sexual hunger. Hr should have known how to deal with it better.

In fact, in the beginning with Astoria it had been like this as well, but he also felt something with Hermione in the short time that he had had her that he had never felt with anyone else. For there had been those who had come before Astoria as well.

But she... she gave him a sense of peace. And by Merlin her lips were soft; the truth was there wasn't much he disliked about her at all. He enjoyed her soft Scottish brogue, her sparkling honey eyes that seemed like pools to get lost in, her incandescent laugh and her biting wit.

Her presence was a balm to his shredded soul, he was so lost and only now after returning to Scotland was, he regaining a measure of clarity and the joy he felt when he was near her was probably the clearest thing he saw.

But his guilt was equally strong. The presence of Astoria lingering behind every memory. His first big love... the most important in a Shifter's long life. By the time she died they hadn't been intimate in almost two years, he had noticed how her pregnancy was affecting her and yet had chosen to blind himself to the truth.

But those feelings weren't her responsibility. He had had the option of leaving her out in the rain. Or letting her leave sooner. He hadn't taken either. If something happened to her, it would most certainly be his fault.

He considered letting out just his wings before deciding that being on foot in the dense forest made more sense.

He just hoped he was in time.

...

Hermione let out a nervous chuckle, "Harold... Ron... er... lovely to see you." Don't wave fool, she instructed herself sternly struggling to control her natural impulse to be polite.

She didn't like the way both men were looking at her. The chill she felt going down her spine was less to do with the cold wind around her and more to do with the slightly malicious light in their eyes.

Harold wasn't interested in knowing anything other than if the Dragon was appeased. Or if there was a Glenmorgan Dragon at all.

However, Hermione could tell from Ron's face. He had lied all along, the Dragon had simply been a convenient excuse to get rid of her.

Why would he do this to her, she was outraged!

She had always known that he had lusted after her lands but to go this far! They had grown up together, their mother's had been friend's till her parent's dying day.

Did they know what their son had done?

"Tell me..." he said softly, his voice echoing in the dark forest. "If ye are still alive. Which if there were a Dragon you shouldnae be. What were ye doin' in the Keep for so long? And how have ye not starved?"

Harold whipped around, his emerald green eyes bright with fury, "Nae Dragon... so that could mean bandits! Robbers! English! Tell me lass... are ye a traitor? Or a witch? To have survived for a fortnight without food or fresh water."

"Neither, I'm neither." She said hastily moving further into the trees, "I can tell you what happened, there's nae thieves nor Dragon's."

"Enough." roared Ron, startling Hermione.

"I don't know if I wish to hear ye lie to me?" he said in a speculative tone, "Mayhap we should first make sure ye are nae a witch, in case ye try to bind us with yer unholy lies and honeyed words."

Harold's eyes took on the feverish light of fear. "A witch..." he muttered under his breath, his gaze wide and fearful upon her face, "Mayhap she's the reason the milk is souring in the sheep and the bairn's are dying. A witch... a witch... all that reading and her parent's strange ideas. We knew this couldnae be good."

Hermione knew only what her father had said at that moment, 'make a plan. stick to it.'

So, she did.

She began inching her way away from the men, she had to be out of arm's reach in case either of them tried to grab her. She would drop the cape she had borrowed because it would only add weight during her run. 'Twas obviously not an ideal position to be caught in her flannel nightgown but at least it would be somewhat warm.

It was clear that Glenmorgan would not welcome the return of Hermione Granger. However, as she was a young woman with an extremely even temperament and practical mind, she said a mental goodbye to her childhood home, promising to grieve it later in private in all the glory it deserved since it had truly been a wonderful home while her parent's had still lived.

She was sad she couldn't get a single keepsake, but she knew that it was more than likely that whoever had claimed her little house had most likely already burned or destroyed whatever they had not deemed useful. She doubted they had kept the cameo of her parent's painting. Her only image of them.

Oh well... she must remember every detail of her dear mama and papa and pass it on to her own children.

She was almost at the edge of the forest where the trees grew thick and prickly. She just had to drop the cape and make a dash for it, it would have to be quick.

"Well gentlemen... I assure you there's no need to listen to my tale. I'll simply disappear." She replied with her most charming smile.

She winced knowing that it wasn't having much of an effect on poor Harold who looked like he was ready to have an apoplexy the moment the word 'witch' had been mentioned.

"She's trying to get away." He muttered, narrowing his eyes as he studied her.

The two men then started towards her menacingly.

It was here, Hermione thought! Now! She had to run!

Letting go of her cape, she darted into the thicket. Covering her face with her arms. Her new boots were sturdy, and the loamy ground was still firm. She simply prayed that the weather remained clear. Any rain would spell disaster for her.

They weren't far behind her, she could hear the heavy thud of both men's work boots.

She couldn't run far, in a desperate attempt to hide she ran to a tree with a strong low hanging branch; gathered her nightgown and walted up.

Her hair had come loose from the chignon she had put it in while walking through the forest and now bits of hair, sweat and leaves clung to her damp neck. She tried to even out her breathing as she ascended upward, thanking whoever was watching out for her that even in the darkness she had picked a strong tree.

The sound of boots was much closer now, almost under the very tree she was hidden in. Her arms ached with the strain it took to keep a firm grasp around the tree, her nightgown was around her thighs and while the chafing of the tree trunk against her bare skin was bad. She imagined getting caught, tied to a wooden board and drowned would be much worse.

How could she have forgotten they would accuse her of witchcraft. The one thing both the Church and pagans feared intensely. Even the good Reverend couldn't get her out of this one.

She was a lack-wit. Draco's offer to resettle her in a more accepting place like Edinburgh had been sound and her foolish romantic notions had come in the way.

Would he even come for her?

She allowed herself to think of the man she had left behind earlier that night for the first time since her ordeal had begun.

Somehow, she felt he would, she didn't know much about the man, but she did know he seemed to think he was omnipotent.

If she died, he might not lock himself up in a delipidated old castle like he'd done for his wife, but he'd certainly mire himself in enough guilt for it to reek out of that castle in giant waves of sadness.

While Draco hadn't been very communicative with her, her daily chats with his house elf-valet/butler/man of all affairs Dobby had been enlightening. Until he had stopped those too.

She had never had a chance to speak to the elf after seeing him without his glamour. They had spoken about Draconis MacFoy the Man... but now she knew there was so much for to him than just being a man.

He was so fascinating to her; magical yet mortal, a man with a deep almost fatalistic sense of responsibility to those who he perceived as protected by him yet with an almost selfish and self-centred notion of what he may mean to those very same people. So close yet not close at all.

They were circling back to where she was hidden. She was hidden fairly high up by now but not so high that they wouldn't be able to see if they lifted their head and looked up at the canopy.

The two men were also talking among themselves, Hermione had to strain her ears to listen to what they were saying. She had no desire for a confrontation. All she wanted was to leave in peace.

She had too much pride to return to Draco, but she knew how to read and heal and if nothing else those two skills would come in handy in a big city. Of-course if he came for her, she would inclined to forgive him.

She'd have to be cautious though if she was to take the roads down south, but she was sure she'd be able to make her way down to Inverness if she was careful and travelled well camouflaged.

After all, travelling as a single lady was not to be done, it invited the worst bedfellows. Pun not intended. But she couldn't carry out her grand plans whilst struck in a tree with no money, no clothes and nothing to eat.

Survival was key.

So far, her luck was holding, they had gone on ahead, but she wasn't sure if they would double back. She hadn't been able to hear their conversation. What if they called more men?

She hadn't forgotten the mob that had dragged her to Draco's. Maybe she hoped... just maybe they were too far inside the thicket for them to go back for more people.

She knew if they claimed she was still alive and had lived alone in that castle with some mysterious 'other' no one would hesitate to jump on the witch argument. She'd be burned at the stake or scored above her head quicker than she'd be able to say Bob.

{Authors Notes for Historical Context- witch hunts were often conducted by vigilantes, who may or may not have executed their victims. In Scotland, for example, cattle murrains and deaths were blamed on witches, usually peasant women, who were duly punished. A popular method called "scoring above the breath" meant slashing across a woman's forehead in order to remove the power of her magic. This was seen as a kind of emergency procedure which could be performed in absence of judicial authorities.Jane Wenham was among the last subjects of a typical witch trial in England in 1712, but was pardoned after her conviction and set free(source: Wikipedia) ) }

Just a wee bit longer she prayed desperately, if she could just make it till first light, she'd be able to find her way out of this forest and onto a main road. She knew the Great North Road went through their neighbouring village, but she had never paid close attention to which one.

Just as she began to contemplate which way out would be best, she heard a beastly roar echo across the forest.

What now, she wondered, tightening her hold on the thick branch. Even before that thought was finished the whole front section of the thick forest was lit ablaze.

Hermione gasped in shock when out of the fire with a hand around each man's neck came a fierce looking Lord Draconis MacFoy. His eye wasn't his own mercurial silver... it was the shifting and ever-changing mercury of the Dragon and each human inch of him covered in golden scales.

He was magnificent sight; terrifying, unearthly and divine.

And my god... she was so desperately happy to see him. He looked so strong, that all she wanted was to run to him and weep. This night had not gone exactly to plan for her.

However, he would crush their throats if she didn't intervene. Unlike the whispers of humans, Draco's deep and inhuman voice carried quite clearly, and he was demanding to know where she was. He must believe her to be dead since he was asking about a torn bit of her flannel nightgown he must have found caught on some branches.

She didn't want the deaths of those two men on her conscious and she feared that rather than dying by the Dragon's hand they might expire in shock itself after witnessing such a fearsome creature descend upon them.

Both Harold and Ron looked like they were about to soil their braries, a sight that would have sent her into a fit of giggles had their choking sounds not reached her too.

Before he roared another question to the terrified duo Hermione called out in a plaintive voice. Finding that despite her grand plans she was exhausted and in desperate need of coddling.

"Draco...Draco I'm here."

Her legs had turned into jelly and she found she couldn't unlock her limbs enough even to climb down the tree.

...

Draconis MacFoy was enraged and so was his Dragon. Finding a small scrap of the flannel pattern of the nightgown that belonged to his Hermione had unleased the beast.

The two men returning from the same path where he could scent her presence had the smell of predators about them like they had just completed a successful hunt.

He hated them on sight. Especially the red head. There was something almost smug about his face, was he responsible...?

His rage was incandescent and after happening upon the men he could have only been stopped by a miracle.

The Dragon's mighty roar echoed through the forest bringing with it the ancient flames that his ancestors had used to win the Pendragon's and Plantagenet's their vast kingdoms.

He had been just about to crush their worthless throats, disregarding their fearfully bulging eyes and their rasping breaths but a soft and faintly pleading voice called out his name.

He tossed each man aside carelessly, they were unconscious anyway. His focus now solely on the large oak where the sound had come from.

It had to be her. She wasn't dead after all. He let out a sigh of gladness, feeling the weight lift off his chest.

Finding that small scarp of her nightgown had triggered a series of images from the war and he had fatalistically decided that she was dead. What else could she be after being hunted by those two jackals wearing human skin.

"Hermione." He couldn't help but roar, despite his relief of having found her alive he was furious with her.

She had disobeyed a direct order.

"I'm here..." came the plaintive voice again, "Up on the tree."

He wanted to laugh and praise her ingenuity. She had made the best use of the thick forest around her, cleverly hiding in one of the biggest oak trees around. He didn't know what had transpired with those men but suffice to say she had succeeded in hiding from them.

"I... I can't come down." she admitted in a small voice, "'Twould seem my legs have become firmly attached to the trunk of this tree."

In the end he was the one who had to climb up and fetch her. Gently he pealed her hands away from the rough bark and helped her put them around his own neck.

She sighed gratefully before burrowing her nose in the space between his shoulder and neck.

"I was scared. Their plan was to accuse me of witchcraft." she whispered to him. "I assume they split my land or one of them took it. They must have spotted me coming down the forest path. Like a fool I took the one we in the village use regularly. You can see that path from the embankment."

"You never should have left." He replied, unable to keep the anger out of his voice as he climbed down, with her wrapped around him like a rose vine.

"Draco..."

"No." he shook his head, "We won't talk about this right now. There's this problem to deal with." He said gesturing to the two unconscious men.

"You can't mean to kill them surely!" exclaimed Hermione, lifting an incredulous face to his, "No Draco that's wrong."

He glared at her, "Miss. Granger I was a soldier, I have killed a great deal of men regardless of if it were right or wrong and besides what do you propose we do? Just leave them alive so that they can return to the village with the tale of the Dragon and the silly maiden he came to rescue? And then we can be sure to see a mob outside our castle door demanding our blood, yours for being a witch and mine for simply being me. Or I can kill them, and this ends here. Many a man have gone missing in these parts. They won't be missed."

"No, you can't Draco please. They have families and parents. Maybe... maybe they won't remember." She said with faint hope, from the safe haven of Draco's arms. Feeling a faint shudder go down her back when she even looked at the two unconscious men.

"They tried to hurt you. I don't understand why you're defending them." He said exasperated.

"Because you're not like them Draco and two wrong's never make a right. It's wrong to kill. Anyone." She replied empathically.

Draconis sighed, they wouldn't get anywhere like this. The two men would have to be dealt with but without mentioning anything to Hermione. 'Twas in his best interest to return her to the castle as soon as possible. Since he felt enough rage having found her in such a position to pound something into submission.

"What's going to happen to me now I wonder?" she asked in a small voice, "I have nowhere to return to."

Remembering his anger at her again he turned her to face him, "For now my treasure you shall be returning to the Keep and with regards to your punishment for disobeying a direct order and putting yourself in such grave jeopardy... well that is a conversation you can look forward to once you have bathed and been dressed in some warm clothes."

"Punishment... for what!" she sputtered, "And I didn't agree to return with you, My Lord!"

"Yes, my dear... but you forget you're my prisoner. A part of my treasure. And a Dragon never let's go of his treasure. You belong to me."

And with those final words, the Dragon emerged... it's mercury eyes arrogantly almost daring Hermione to defy the gauntlet that Draco had thrown down.

But instead of trepidation she felt a keen sense of anticipation. Equally boldly she climbed onto its back.

Her eyes accepting the challenge Draco issued.

His, was she... well she'd see about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and comments are welcomed.


	8. IIX

Dragon vs. Maiden IIX

Previously  
.................

"Punishment... for what!" she sputtered, "And I didn't agree to return with you, My Lord!"

"Yes, my dear... but you forget you're my prisoner. A part of my treasure. And a Dragon never let's go of his treasure. You belong to me."

WARNING- This chapter has NSFW content. 18+ recommended.

...........

Hermione sank gratefully into the tub of warm lavender scented water. Sighing as she handled the fine white soap that had been given to her by Draco's butler as he had been magically filling the large copper tub for her bath.

It was the finest, whitest soap she had ever seen, and it smelt lovely, like herbs and botanicals. It wasn't at all like the soap she would have used at home made of lye and animal fat, that soap was brown and stunk.

However, it was all she had to wash with, even her wooden tub which was considered a luxury item in village was nothing compared to the large shiny copper tub that had been levitated into her previous chamber once Draco had unceremoniously dumped her back in here.

She dunked her head under the water, holding her breath with delight. She had never been in a tub large enough to dunk her head and curly hair all the way under in.

They hadn't talked the entirety of their flight back to the Keep, partly because he was in his changeling form and partly because she could tell from the frown on his face that he was brooding. As she rubbed the rosemary scented soap into her thick curls she wondered if he was going to return to where Harold and Ron were.

He hadn't been convinced by her pleading, she had seen that on his face. Him stopping the conversation to bring her back to the Keep was merely a distraction. She nibbled her lips nervously.

It was less the fate of the two men in the forest worrying her now that she was back in the Keep and more her own. He had cryptically stated that some things were about to change before waving away the rest of her questions and leaving her with Dobby.

The elf was kind to her, explaining that his Lord would be back later to speak to her. He hadn't admonished her for escaping into the night like a thief much to her relief but the brief courage she had shown before climbing the Dragon's back was waning.

What if this was merely a last hurrah so to speak, warm her, feed her, dress her and then send her on her way with a 'thank you very much but you have too many problems tied to you.'

After all Draco had no obligation to keep her with him. Besides his damned sense of responsibility and the honour of his gentlemanly title.

She looked out the tower window to see that the sky was lightening. My... what a wild night. She had never expected to return to Glenmorgan Keep at the end of this night. In some silly part of her mind she had still believed that she could have returned to her little, warm cottage.

After rinsing herself she stretched out fully leaning the back of her neck against the soft padded cushion behind her. Curls of hot steam and her own breath wafted towards the high ceilings.

She was ever so tired. She yawned delicately. She couldn't fall asleep, he'd be back soon, and she had to be awake to speak to him.

She shuddered delicately when she remembered his anger, praying that the full force of it wouldn't be directed towards her admittedly foolish and impulsive actions.

Maybe I should kiss him so that he's nicer was her last laughing thought before she fell asleep in the tub; exhausted by the day's events.

...

Draco was in a foul mood, despite vowing to kill those men regardless of Hermione's feelings and misgivings he had ended up taking one of Dobby's potions.

It was meant to wipe out a whole day's events from the minds of non-magical folk.

The only satisfaction Draconis MacFoy was getting this night was the fact that he had beaten both men to a pulp.

After pouring the foul-smelling brew down the throats of both unconscious men he was now back at his Keep.

Now he thought with vicious satisfaction... now was his chance to confront the little traitor. This was what he had been waiting all night to do, today he would put the fear of the Dragon in the little chit and make sure she never defied him again.

He waved away the hovering Dobby impatiently once he walked through the Keep's doors and made his way directly to her room... HIS room... the room, the one she was merely using whilst he still had to keep her here.

Each step he took towards the tower seemed more urgent. Maybe he was just in a hurry to chastise her or maybe... the little voice at the back of his head said... just maybe he was in a hurry to see if she was in fact in one piece.

What had gone on in the night was galling to him; regardless of Astoria's affliction later in their marriage she would have never contemplated running away in just a nightgown and coat in the middle of the night. In fact, none of the ladies in his acquaintance would have ever dreamed of taking such bold action.

He did not know how to deal with such bold, unapologetic and wilful independence. For he had never encountered it before, to the women in his circle leaving the comforts of a warm bed to return to a hovel would have been unthinkable.

By the time he reached the secret door his heart was thumping hard in his chest; a mix of confusion, anger and longing swirled in his chest. Perhaps the military stratagem of making a battle plan first would not serve him well in this scenario. He would have to play it by ear.

His first knock went unanswered and so did his second. By the third he was raging. Did she think to ignore him by refusing to allow him admittance!? 'Twas his castle and by right he could enter the room!

"Miss Granger." He called out in a calm voice, "Please be wary, I'm entering."

Hearing no reply, he pulled at the catch of the secret door and let himself in, feeling more confident with his ire than ever before. Oh yes, she would answer for putting him through the inconvenience of chasing after her in the dark. And the fear of finding her dead, reminded the little voice, don't forget that.

He marched up the stairs. Fuck, his leg throbbed, it was always like this after an adrenalin fuelled Change, he was still dressed in the dirty robes and breeches that he had worn to fetch her. Soot and dirt caked his hands and he couldn't find the leather tong that held his shoulder length hair back. His foul mood was merely aggravated by the fact that he had to keep pushing his hair back.

Indeed, he was spoiling for a fight.

But she was asleep...

Draco let out a short laugh as he saw his quarry and bane fast asleep, the water in her tub still warm.

Merlin, he thought... all the anger leeching out of him as he sat down heavily on her bed. She was so goddamn pretty. Clear pearly skin dotted by charming freckles, sweetly rounded curves courtesy of simple country living, softly arched eyebrows under which sat eyes so lively and warm that they reminded him of the first time he had ever drunk chocolate

(A/N For historical context- English aristocracy began to drink hot coco after it was introduced in the courts of France and Spain and it was known as chocolate."

He had best wake her, 'twas not a gentlemanly thing to stare at a young, unmarried woman without her consent. He would send Dobby, despite the fact that they had crossed all boundaries of impropriety in each other's presence he had to be careful now. In his selfishness he had not seen what the outcome would and could have been for Miss. Granger and today's incident was merely a preview to what would happen to any young lady with her reputation in question.

"Draco...?" came a soft, sleepy, female voice, "You're back? I hope you didn't hurt those two no-matter how much they may have deserved it."

"You're awake, love?" he said gentling his voice, "It'd be best if you got out of the tub and dressed before we talk."

"Dressed?" she whispered confused, "Ah..."

...

Hermione was embarrassed and, in her haste, to cover herself she stood in the tub. The water sluiced down her naked body giving the man in front of her a glimpse of charmingly rounded limbs and a curvy, feminine body.

"I know you're angry and I'll admit to being silly and impulsive with regard to my leaving your home, but you must understand that when you made the decision to take me in from the rain, you turned my well-ordered life upside down." she blurted out in a rush.

"I see I won't have to bother calling the elf then." he muttered under his breath before looking away hastily and handing her a towelling robe. "I'm not angry Miss. Granger." he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of stopping the throbbing behind his temple and eye.

"It seems like you are." she whispered. She tightened the cotton sash that held the flimsy garment together while studying his handsome face.

"No, I'm not angry with you per-say, just this situation." He replied, sitting back down on the bed and undoing the velvet string that held the eyepatch in place. "You don't mind, do you? I understand that it's a rather unseemly sight."

"You know I've seen worse." She replied with a smile before silently asking if it was okay if she sat near him.

She took his grunt and nod as a seal of approval and sat down.

"Why did you leave?" he asked in his usual gruff voice.

Hermione knew he was used to people he perceived under him cowering to that tone of voice, yet she was aware of the precarious position she was currently in, so she had to modulate her tone of voice.

"It wasn't fair of you to cut me off like that. Not talking to anyone, not being allowed out of this room, being a true prisoner. I didn't ask for that." Hermione kept her eyes on her hands, watching as the veins stood out in stark relief as she clenched them.

"By Merlin." said Draco angrily, "Even my goddamn house-elf won't stop talking about how poorly I've treated you. I'm sorry were the books, parchment, warm food and new clothes not enough, my dear?" he asked sarcastically.

"You're being rather unfair." she said, "After all as a captive it is my right to use any means to escape to freedom."

"But you're not safe out there, Hermione." He said urgently, turning and grabbing her shoulders, "Surely you see that now."

"But I was." She countered, looking up at him, "I was safe before you kept me here for so long."

"And just what was I supposed to do, leave you out in the rain? To freeze? Or to allow you to return and tell everyone the Lord of Glenmorgan has returned. The newly minted Draconis MacFoy. Here to save their stupid, treacherous village, here to save people who might have betrayed my father to his greatest enemy."

"I wouldn't betray you." she whispered, aghast, "You knew that. You knew I would've kept your secret had you let me return but you don't trust me. You don't trust anyone, Draco."

"Don't be foolish, Hermione." He said coldly, "It's a village, they would have burned the truth out of your pretty lips the moment they knew you had set foot back in their land."

"So, where do we go from here?" she asked, worrying the skin of her bottom lip whilst looking at him.

...

She was so lovely.

Merlin, he was a stupid man. He should have stuck to his original plan of leaving even after she had woken up. Her pale skin was pink from the warm bath and her long curly hair around her shoulders. She wasn't beautiful in the way Astoria was. His late wife had been the kind of beauty that men stopped in awed silence to stare at. Much to his abject fury.

But Hermione was... she was like the last sunflower before the beginning of autumn. A warmth that beckoned one to come closer and bask within.

One kiss, he reasoned... surely one kiss wouldn't matter. He'd deal with Astoria's ghost on the morrow.

For now, he wanted to kiss this infuriating woman... this lovely, warm, maddening woman who had led him on a chase and didn't even have the self-preservation to cow under the voice he used when his soldiers had committed only the gravest of infractions.

"Does it hurt very much?" her voice was shy and her eyes questioning.

"Nothing one of your healing massages won't fix." He teased gently.

Hermione helped ease his back against the headboard of the bed, she leant over his lap like the last time to put her fingers to his temple.

"You never did answer, Draco?" she asked again, "I'm worried about what's to happen."

He pulled her down to his chest before answering gruffly, "You needn't worry. You are to stay here for now and those men will have forgotten everything that went on in the last day. They are alive and you are safe now but my dear I would suggest putting the idea of leaving out of your head."

"For good." she whispered, propping up her chin on his chest, "What will become of me?"

But instead of answering he simply leaned down and kissed her. Hermione gasped, allowing him an opportunity to plunder the sweet depths of her mouth.

"Draco." she whispered once he let her breath, "You said..."

"Forget what I said. I thought you had died, Hermione. Even if it's just for my sake, let me kiss you, please?"

"Well if we're going to be kissing, it has to be for both of our sakes, My Lord." She whispered into his ear playfully before nipping down gently. "So, kiss me harder, Draco."

Lord MacFoy offered a fervent prayer to whichever Saint or deity had made this possible and complied with his lady's command to kiss her harder.

"Promise me you won't regret this in the morning." Hermione said all of a sudden, grasping his face in her hands and looking into his eyes.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that, love?" Draco replied amused.

"No listen, I'm 25. On the shelf. There's no great love affair for me out there, Draco. But you and your Astoria." She said, shaking her head, "It's only natural you still grieve her. So, I just hope that whatever happens between us tonight... that you don't feel regret in the morning."

Draco was stunned by the compassion in her eyes. Here she was, this mortal woman, one who could potentially be hurt far more than him by their association showing him understanding and compassion during this moment.

He was humbled and astonished by her grace.

So, he just kissed her again, promising against her mouth, "No regrets."

Her smile after his promise captivated him, she stretched her arms up and circled them around his neck. Her playful nip on his lower lip spurning him into action.

...

Hermione gasped in wonder. God was this what it was like to be ravished? Draco's tongue thrust between her lips in a blatantly carnal fashion and in between the folds of her thin robe she felt his thick muscular leg thrust between her own.

She adored this intimacy he forced upon her. There was nothing but her and Draco, his smoky scent and his possessive silver eyes. She felt consumed by his large body and forceful presence.

Draco's kisses became hotter and wetter as he encouraged Hermione to stretch her fingers against the taut flesh of his chest. She gasped as the warm, tensile muscle shifted and bunched under her fingers. His crisp golden hair wiry and strange to her exploring fingers.

He ran his warm mouth against her chin and down her throat. For her who had never been touched this way it was a revelation.

Every place he touched her was alive with sensation and she wriggled under his firm, possessive hold.

She wanted to rub her body against his and suddenly it was imperative that she remove his clothes.

With his lips still in the sensitive crook of her neck and shoulder he helped her remove his linin shirt and her robe. Hermione shivered in surprise and delight when her breasts came into contact with his warm chest.

Draco tensed as she tentatively rubbed her nipples against his chest.

"Was that bad?" she whispered, nervously, "Should I not have done that?"

He gathered her closer and pressed a hard kiss on to her mouth, "No, love. Anything and everything we do together is beautiful. 'Tis just that it's your first time and I'm trying to be gentle with you."

"I trust you." She whispered to him, "You won't hurt me."

He growled under his breath and moved his large hands down to her breasts, gently pulling on her nipples until she moaned loudly and began to move restlessly.

"You're loud, love." He laughed quietly, "You're a moaner."

She began to giggled but was stopped when his warm and wet mouth settled on her nipples, replacing his fingers which had travelled further south and were stroking her belly gently.

Hermione dug her fingers into his glorious hair, holding his mouth to her breasts. The sensations of making love to Draco were otherworldly, almost mystical. Her body ached for something she didn't even know about yet.

Insistent, his fingers moved downwards.

Oh, it was unfamiliar, this sensation of having a man's hands on her body! She closed her legs instinctually.

He murmured softly into her ear, urging her to open up to him.

"Give me your fire, sweet." His fingers pierced the secret place between her legs, bringing with them the first pinches of pain.

"Draco?" she cried out questioningly, her eyes jerking open.

"Merlin, you're tight. Worry not love, everything will be fine." He soothed, kissing her lips in the way that made her forget everything else. Instead he brushed his fingers over the small nub at the top of her sex, making her flood with moisture.

The restless feeling was back, she wanted something... anything. She had to reach that pinnacle that her body promised but wouldn't allow her to achieve.

She bucked under his big body, urging him with her movements.

"Christ, should receive a medal for this." Draco murmured under his breath, "Easy now love, I have you."

"Draco..." she moaned, "Do something!"

"So, demanding." He laughed, "I adore a forceful woman."

He gripped her hips in both hands before smiling his wicked pirates smile and kissing down the front of her torso.

"Wha... What are you doing?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Just watch, Miss Granger. This is something they don't teach you in your anatomy books."

"No Draco... not there!" she cried out, feeling his soft, teasing kisses reach the soft insides of her thighs.

"Remember, everything we do together is right."

"But..."

"You trust me, no?"

"Aye, I suppose so. You promise to stop if I hate it, yes?"

"Aye I promise."

She leaned back against the headboard and bit down on her bottom lip. His first searching kisses were merely up and down her legs... now very sensitive.

...

Draco delighted in this game. Hermione's nervous little glances down merely made him want to prolong the torture a little further, but her soft, pink quim was calling him.

She was truly lovely everywhere, 'twas a privilege to be the first man to view such a pretty pussy. Crowned with a thatch of golden-brown curls, soft to the touch rather than wiry. Her intoxicating fragrance called him, Merlin... how long had it been since he had been in between the thighs of a beautiful woman last.

He had to savour her, his first gentle lick sent her into a frenzy of giggles.

"Feels strange." She whispered to him, "No offence."

"None taken." He laughed with her, "Just lay back now." he urged.

His slow licks fast rendered her speechless as the same feeling of reaching for something glorious began in her womb. It made her belly clench in delight.

Draco revelled in her moans asking for mercy and her soft sighs when he touched her clit.

From the cries coming above him he knew she was close, her small hands clutched his head desperately as she rode out wave after wave of sensation.

He gently sucked her little button one last time before biting down on it and sending her into a screaming climax.

Draco wanted to laugh as her soft thighs contracted around his head and her long moan, more than a little undisciplined, rang out.

He lifted his head and placed a kiss on her navel before grinning into eyes slitted in pleasure.

"I hope that exceeded your expectations, madam." He said primly, smiling at her negligible mumble.

"I didn't know people could make love like that." she whispered a little wonderingly.

"Yes, well there are a great deal of things you don't yet know about even at your grand old age of 25. Now go to sleep."

"What about you." she blurted out, looking at his tented breeches shyly.

"I wouldn't worry about that." He laughed, getting up off the bed and taking his shirt out of her hands, "He goes away by himself unprompted most of the time."

"Um... Draco?"

"Yes Hermione?"

"What about... where I'm supposed to go?"

Coward! That wasn't what she had meant to ask him

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. I think you should go to bed now, it's been a trying night."

"Aye, I see... well, goodnight... I mean good morn then. Will I see you later?"

"Mayhap." He muttered vaguely, already heading towards the door.

"Remember what you promised My Lord. No regrets."

"Aye..." he muttered looking away, "No regrets."

...

Hermione gazed up at the fresco on the ceiling and wondered what it would be like to make love without all those cumbersome human feelings. For the physical part she had thoroughly enjoyed but the aftermath wasn't feeling equally exceptional.

She wished she could be just like the Satyrs in her fresco.

Because she was sure that despite Draco's assurance to the contrary, he regretted what had taken place between them.

It had been a foolish decision to allow him to continue past the first kiss, she chided herself.

The man was still in love with a ghost.  
............................

TBC

A/N- Leave a review they're free! Also check out some of the other stories I'm working on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review they're free!


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So a decision has been made regarding this story. It's been fun to write it and I'm going to continue it till it feels like a natural ending. I had a sudden burst of inspiration over the holidays and my birthday which will result in something I think most of you, the readers... will love. So, here's to a lot more rugged military/dragon shifter Draco goodness and intrepid charm from Hermione. We're also going to be having a new character, one mentioned in an earlier chapter only briefly make his debut in a big way! He shall be a part of the story; a rival for Hermione's love?! (WHO KNOWS)
> 
> Cheers xx
> 
> P.S- I don't want to spoil it for anyone but for those of you wondering this story is a HEA so chill your lil hearts and enjoy everything to come.
> 
> Leave a review!

Previously...  
...

The man was still in love with a ghost.

...

Half-wit, Draco swore pacing up and down the kitchen. Dobby had long since retired to Scorpius's room, it was still early morning. He had only left Hermione's bed this past hour. Of all the foolish things he had done in his life, this by far took the cake.

What an exit... he thought with a sigh, falling down into a chair by the dying embers of the fire. Fuck, she had still been flushed with the force of her orgasm when he left... leaving that confused look in her doe brown eyes. The soft pink flush had crowned the tops of her cheeks and the tops of her breasts... he couldn't help but think once again. Ashamed of his weakness he dropped his head into his hands.

Why this woman? Why now?

No but then just as he thought he was finally free, he'd remember the flash of cornflower blue eyes, golden hair that would fall through his fingers like sifted golden threads.

He had to apologize to the girl... he seemed to be doing that an awful lot for someone he claimed he had no attachment to.

An awful thought began to cross his mind; his merchant fleets, moored in an inlet by the cove of the castle. He could leave, take his son, his household... leave her behind all of what was left in the castle and some gold. Maybe... maybe he could return to her, once he was free.

No! He dashed the idea aside before it was even complete, he didn't know what it was that was between them but leaving her to fend for herself was out of the question.

He wasn't worried about her being able to make her way, she had ingenuity enough however the thought of what a man could do to a single woman who he saw as weak turned his blood into ice. No... leaving her was out of the question. The memory of the night before was still vivid in his mind.

He glared at the last dregs of the fire, damn and blast! He had not returned here to Glenmorgan to acquire another woman...yet somehow one had fallen into his lap... one that he admittedly was unwilling to let go.

He needed to check on his son he thought with a tired sigh, wiping his no doubt extremely haggard face.

...

Hermione had been struggling to fall asleep. She had tossed and turned in bed for what seemed like eternity.

However, day was breaking, and she needed something to keep her hands and her mind busy. The daylight was unwelcome, during the night she had remained in her warm bed with an equally warm man... now in the daylight the bed looked rumpled and the man's last expression decidedly regretful.

She washed carefully at the sink and mirror propped up against the wall, coming to a decision. If ... after a discussion with Draco, they couldn't come to some sort of agreement as to how they were to behave around each other... she would leave. She would not sneak out like a thief at night, she thought with a blush... like last time.

No, she would be the adult, they would talk, with logic and reason and then she would come up with an independent decision of her own.

All this was rather dreary she thought with a sigh tugging a brilliant emerald green gown over her chemise and stockings. Perhaps if the latch to the secret door was the same as before she'd go visit Draco's son.

There was nothing better for the soul than the smile of a baby and she assured herself, it'd just be a quick peek. Aye no more than a few seconds.

The latch was indeed the same, she tugged on her boots and stepped outside the secret opening.

As she was walking to the opposite end of the dilapidated castle to where Draco's son's nursery was, she ran her hands against the walls, frowning at how the char still stuck to her skin... thick and black. How awful must have been for Draco, even to this day... despite nature taking over the ruin the evidence of violence still steeped the castle in eerie darkness.

So malevolent... she thought with a shudder, was Draco in the castle when the MacNott clan's warriors set the keep on fire? Was he with his parents?

Even though they had been so intimate, she still knew very little about him. She wondered how he had ended up as a privateer, after all most Scots that she knew... herself included hated the English. To fight with redcoats was appalling to her. But now when she saw what was left of his childhood home and knew that people she knew... well their parents and grandparents anyway... one from them had betrayed this family, killed a teen's parents, left him to fend for himself with enemies all around... she knew now why he kept himself in such ridged control, his icy disdain for this land and it's people.

Aye, she'd hate them too... viciously, if they had had her mama and papa murdered. After all, for Draco they hadn't been Laird and Lady MacFoy but mother and father.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she came upon a familiar corridor leading to a tower room. She grabbed her long skirts and darted up, past the debris and opened the door.

She had been right, and she was rewarded with the angelic view of the little boy at propped up in his crib with his cat beside him and his chubby little hands stuffed with apple slices.

Dobby, without his Glamour jumped from his post reading the newspaper besides the crib and began to stammer.

"Oh, stop it." Hermione hushed him breezing in, "This..." she said gesturing to his unfortunate pair of breeches and shirt, "Is the least strange thing I've seen in the last few days."

The elf sighed and sat back down, rubbing the bridge of his rather large nose.

"Whatever are you doing out of yer room miss?" he frowned, "Master won't be pleased."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be absolutely fine." She told the elf with the surety of a woman who knew she was owed an apology.

"His father really should have taken a birch to that boy." said Dobby, suspicious of her tone.

"What in the world are you reading?" Hermione asked curiously, leaning over the elf.

"Daily Prophet." he muttered. "It's not for your kind."

"My kind?"

"Non-magical folk."

"How interesting! Let me have a wee peak!" she begged. She reached over and took Scorpius out of his crib, the sweet child didn't seem to mind her holding him in her lap.

"Such curiosity, in a woman." said the elf in the voice that made Hermione think he didn't entirely approve.

"Oh lord..." she whispered in wonder, "The pictures move."

One small, apple smeared hand grabbed the paper and squished happily.

As Hermione asked Dobby all sorts of questions, none of the occupants in the room noticed a tall figure leaning against the doorway.

...

She looked perfect with his son on her lap, thought Draco savagely. Like a young mother with her child, except his son's real mother was dead.

The hush from their direction let him know that they had noticed his presence. He nodded to Dobby, gesturing with his head towards the door. It was time for the elf to leave.

Dobby threw a weak attempt at a smile Hermione's way before hot footing it out of the nursery with his paper in tow.

"My Lord..." Hermione murmured, her eyes downcast and her mouth puckered.

He winced looking at the soft purple smudges beneath her normally bright eyes, clearly, he hadn't been the only one kept up by his untimely actions in her bedroom last night.

He marched over stiffly, sinking down in the chair Dobby had abandoned. He watched her broodingly as she lightly tickled his son's belly.

"So..." she whispered, looking him in the eye, "Have you decided what to do with me yet? I half expected to wake up to find myself all alone in this castle."

Draco would never let her know how close to the truth she was.

"I cannot leave you alone now, I have compromised your reputation thoroughly." he growled, "Other than marriage, I cannot think of a single way to keep you safe and with me and I am not ready to get married again... maybe never."

"Or..." she said, "Since we are so far apart in our classes, peasant and aristocrat no one would care what you do to me. You needn't worry about my reputation, My Lord." Lord she sounded stiff... she was hurt... how dare he imply she was trying to trap him into marriage. Reminding her just how far apart they really were.

"Miss. Granger." Draco replied gravely, reaching out to catch one small hand within his own, "Have no doubt, while you may not need me to worry... I worry all the same."

Hermione snatched her hand away, disconcerted by his words. She instead looked down at the golden head of the child in her lap... when seemingly out of nowhere a brilliant notion struck her.

"My Lord..." she looked shrewdly, "What would you say to making another deal with me."

Draco instantly looked wary as he considered her suddenly gleaming eyes.

"And what would that deal be, my dear." He drawled, leaning backwards. Studying her out of his one good eye, the eyebrow above his patch arching questioningly.

"The differences in our classes reminded me..."

He interrupted her firmly, "I hope you're aware Hermione that I believe all this class nonsense is tosh. I've met soldier's rescued from the gutters of London more valiant, honourable and brave than any aristocrat I've encountered thus far in my life."

"You must stop interrupting me, My Lord." she replied impatiently.

"And I told you to stop calling me that." He reminded her gently.

"Listen to me, Draco." She insisted, leaning forward until she was close enough for him to smell her sweet, clean scent, "I have a way for both of us to get what we want; you feel responsible for my reputation and I want to see the world. Why don't you take me on as Scorpius's nanny?"

"You to be his nanny?"

"Why yes, that way I can travel with you wherever you decide to take him, and you can keep an eye on me and as you well know 'tis a common enough job for the few well-read women of my station."

"Do you know what you're asking for, little one, forget about your blasted 'station'?" he said gently, "This means no more spontaneous kisses, no more head massages... if I were to take you on one of my vessels, I'll have to keep you safe from my men. Not that I don't trust each one of them with my life but having a woman as young and lovely as you on board will undoubtedly result in me crackling some heads."

"No more kissing." she agreed, swallowing her bitter disappointment. It was clear to her that what he felt for her was simply duty...his disappointment in their intimacy couldn't have been clearer last night. "And..." she said bravely, "Once I feel suitably compensated for the loss of my reputation, My Lord. I shall leave you and your son in peace."

It was for the best she assured herself, taking this step. She had to protect herself.

She turned her face away from his and played with little Scorpius's hair... no matter, perhaps getting to see the world would be suitable compensation for his stalwart rejection.

"So, My Lord... do we have a deal?" she asked in falsely bright voice, slapping a smile on her face and extending her hand as she had seen so many gentlemen do.

Draco simply gazed meditatively at her hand before clasping it tight within his own. That startled her since she had expected him to shake it.

"I feel like this action of yours has a hidden meaning to it." He murmured, "Yet I see no other better idea... so for now... we are agreed, my dear. But we shall return to this discussion again."

"I don't see what else is there to discuss..."

"Yes, after all I'm sure you have it all worked out in your clever little brain don't you, treasure. No matter... today is not the day to fix your crooked ideas for if you are to be my son's nanny then I see no reason to continue to linger in this godforsaken castle."

"We're leaving?!"

"Indeed, madam and I suggest you begin your new job by packing your new charge's clothing." And with those final words and a final brooding look Draco left Hermione in the nursery.

She felt like she had just left the battlefield... and exalted her in victory... well sort off.

She wouldn't be missing his kisses... much.

TBC


	10. X

Dragon vs. Maiden X  
..........

The Basilisk was massive, Hermione gazed down in awe as Draco... er... Lord MacFoy helped her down the steep cliffs that bolstered the northern side of Glenmorgan Keep.

It was only two days after his surprising announcement of their departure. She was dressed in warm woollen gown, trimmed in soft white fur and sturdy half-boots. Her curly hair had been confined in a soft braid and the thumping of her heart gave her cheeks a deep flush. She had never left her village, let alone Scotland and this was the beginning of a great adventure for her.

She felt like she had been waiting for this all her life; mentally she consigned her life in the village to the past wherever this new adventure with Draco took her she knew that she at least would not regret it.

The ship moored in the inlet was large and even with its sails folded it looked ominous, 'twas unlike anything she had ever seen in her life, the mast showed a large serpent with its fags barred. Hermione shuddered delicately, what a hideous masthead. It's flat serpentine eyes made her feel uncomfortable.

The final few rocks down the cliff face lead to a pebble beach, Draco kept a firm hold on her arm however he seemed distracted. His normally expressionless face coalesced in a deep frown.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, clearing her throat delicately. "You seem concerned about something."

He frowned before answering abruptly, "We'll be stopping in Inverness for a few days, Miss. Granger. There is important business I need to take care of before I decide where we sail."

"I see..." she murmured, following him onto to the small boat that would take them to his ship. She smiled politely as he helped her in all the while studying his handsome face covertly. Indeed, there were some advantages of being a lady, for example... how your bonnet could hide your wandering gaze.

While she knew it was none of her business, she was intensely curious to know what was causing him to look like that. If only she hadn't taken a vow before God not to snoop only a day ago. 'Twas one of the ways she was thinking to curb her habit of rash impulsivity. "Twas one in the long list of vows she had taken the other day in a bid to make herself into the perfect nanny and unbothered woman of the world in order to keep her heart safe from the mercurial Lord MacFoy.

...

She thought he couldn't see her curious little gaze, Draco thought with a rueful smile. Sometimes she reminded him of his Kneezels, with her curious, intelligent amber eyes and her small nose.

But at the moment something far more serious was on his mind, prior to leaving Draco had not caught up with his correspondence and in all the bustle of having Hermione in the castle he had missed a crucial note from one of his men in Glasgow.

Yesterday he had finally seen the message, it was short, terse and to the point.

T moving North, will dock in Inverness 57.4778° N, 4.2247° W

Next moves?

Yers,

Z

Theodore MacNott had returned from his expedition to the New World. Draco wondered if he would be joining the Jacobite cause his spies told him MacNott's people continued to support.

While Draco had left the Navy a long time ago there were still men who owed him favours. If MacNott plotted with his clan there would be a chance for the Dragon to take it's long sought-after revenge. Another Jacobite revolution was the last thing the English wanted, the MacNott's were even more untrustworthy to the English because they were Highlanders. Notoriously unpredictable and fighters with skill beyond compare.

They would send in the full force of the English army, the redcoats would annihilate MacNott's clan especially now that they were developing a new weapon... smoother than a musket, a rifle with the flintlock mechanism-built in. 'Twas small enough for a solider to carry multiples and the army needed to test them. The clan would stand no chance. And it would keep his hands clean.

Draco had been famous for two things during his days in the King's Navy; the first being his strategic battle-planning in causing the least amount of damage to civilian populations and properties and the second was his ruthlessness regarding any enemy strong hold. The MacNott were an isolated clan, there were no unwitting peasants wandering their fields, so he had no need to keep the former consideration as a part of his plan so that gave free reign for him to be as ruthless as possible.

Draco had no doubt that Theo would be sympathetic to his people's cause, after all the extended trip to the New World was really exile till he could safely return to Scotland after the last revolution.

However, before Draco made any decision, he wished to look upon MacNott himself. 'Twas not that he disagreed with the Jacobite cause, he had no such political affiliations. Hanover or Stewart; the ruler and the richest of their society were likely to line their pockets pitting peasants and common men against each other. Scottish independence was a foolish dream and if MacNott carried down that very destructive path who was Draco to stop him. It served his cause well.

The Basilisk was one of his smaller vessels which was why he had been able to moor it near Glenmorgan without it being spotted in the inlet. It housed a small crew of men who had been under his command in the Navy, all men he trusted implicitly.

Indeed, it was his first mate and trusted lieutenant Blaise Zabini, the bastard son of an English lord and his Italian Soprano mistress who had sent him the very note he could now not stop thinking about.

Draco had not laid eyes on Theo in years, indeed when they were younger the two men had been friends as their parents had been... until they hadn't. All Draco knew was that whatever had prompted Theo's father to attack Glenmorgan had been passed down to Theo.

Each time the two men met, the conflict ended in bloodshed, but Draco was determined to end it once and for all now. He could not allow this feud to bleed down into his son's generation, yet he could not bring himself to forgive the egregious actions of the MacNott clan.

As far as he knew MacNott was not married yet, as well as being the last male heir to his clan and the Barony that came with the title. With his death the clan would be left like a Hydra without its head... unable to stagger on. 'Twas a stain on Draco's conscious that the older MacNott had escaped justice at his hands and so he was vowed to make sure the younger didn't.

...

Hermione watched breathlessly as the fine lawn shirt Draco wore drew taut over his sinewy arms as he began to row strongly towards the large ship. Really, the mas has the most disturbing effect on me she thought crossly, shaking her head and reminding herself of the vows she had taken not long ago.

The past two days had been a flurry of activity, the few items of any worth in the castle packed and stowed safely in the ship with the help of Dobby's magic.

Scorpius's crib and toys carefully moved into a large chamber besides Draco's captain's quarters that the child would share with his new nanny. This was the first time she had had a moment to be alone with Draco since he had left her in the nursery. Yet he had barely looked at her, clearly his mind was occupied with something vastly important.

The child and the elf now back in his human Glamour had gone on to the ship first, Dobby grumbling about the long journey he had no wish to make.

In no time at all they would be on the ship and she would have to make sure that she remained as unobstructive as possible. She wanted so badly to reach out and grab his hand, ask him if everything was alright or to sooth that dark frown from between his eyebrows.

Yet the memory of his words and his rejection kept her still.

But as they got closer and the large ship in front of her got ever larger. Her heart was nearly in her throat ... all of a sudden, she felt a hysterical giggle rise out of her.

Here she was... a woman who had never left her tiny village in Scotland beginning a new and wonderful journey... one that she probably never would have had the opportunity of make were it not for this strange twist of fate that had brought the magical, mysterious man sat in front of her into her life.

She wanted to throw her arms out and scream in excitement for she knew that no matter what were to happen... she would never be the same again.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Has anyone else been watching Bridgeton on Netflix! It's soooo good, more people need to start making romance novels into TV shows. Especially historical romance.


	11. XI

Dragon vs. Maiden XI

Previously ...

She wanted to throw her arms out and scream in excitement for she knew that no matter what were to happen... she would never be the same again.

......

Port of Inverness, Scotland. Midnight

......

Hermione sat on the steadily swaying bed, her hand on her tummy. It had been two days since they had departed Draco's family's holding in Glenmorgan, and she was still finding her sea legs.

A natural sailor like his father, Scorpius seemed utterly at ease in his wall mounted cradle. Certainly 'twas not the surroundings that made her queasy for they were as plush as the tower-room she had been held captive in. Her bed may have been nailed to the wall of the sturdy ship, but it boasted a thick mattress of goose-down and several large pillows covered in the bright silks made in the Far East. But she couldn't admire any of it with the wild roiling inside her stomach.

"Twas like when she was about to begin her courses. Oh dear... was she about to begin her courses?

She hefted herself off the bed and ran to the bathroom, reaching under her petticoats for that tell-tale damp. Just wonderful she thought with a huff... exactly what she needed, and she didn't even have her herb basket to mix herself a brew to help calm her unruly body.

However, she also felt a sigh of relief. After all, 'twould be a sad end to the beginning of her grand adventure should she discover herself incompatible with sea travel. She searched her travel case for anything that could be used as a rag.

She felt herself in a devilish mood, she had not slept properly in days and had not been allowed out of the rooms she had been unceremoniously dropped in... again... in that very same amount of time.

How like a man! She huffed in indignation, there wasn't a single rag to be found in her case and tearing up one of the expensive items of clothing he had provided for her was unthinkable.

Of-course the logical side of her cajoled that Draco wasn't expected to know about unruly female maladies like bleeding like a stuck pig for four to five days every month, yet hadn't the man been married?! Surely, he must know that this was an event that took place like clockwork every month and he had after all insisted that she not return under the cover of darkness with the help of one of Dobby's spells to retrieve anything from her cottage. Nor taken any of her suggestions while purchasing things for her.

She had to find something she could use, everything in this godforsaken cabin was far too fine to rip and use as a rag. She apologised to God for breaking a promise before walking out of her bathroom and to her cabin door determinedly.

While she had given her promise to Draco that she wouldn't leave her rooms without an escort, Scorpius was asleep, and this was an emergency. She was sure the storeroom shown to her earlier by Draco would have exactly what she needed.

Grabbing a warm woollen shawl from the back of a chair she very gently undid the deadbolt, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Seeing the walkway empty and Draco's cabin door shut she quickly slipped out and shut her door behind her carefully.

She tip-toed to the very end of the narrow walkway and slipped inside the storeroom. Spotting the muslin, she quickly tore a few large swaths. Enough to last her a few months because God knows how long the Dragon was going to keep her prisoner in her rooms this time she thought with annoyance.

Well... at least this time she wasn't alone, and he had to let her out some time if was ever to see his son.

Hermione was a little shocked at her bitchy turn of thought but smiled ruefully... her courses brought out the hydra within if she was being completely honest.

As she began to make her way back to the door, she heard the muffled sounds of someone trying to be very-very quiet outside the storeroom door, she stopped to listen intently. She didn't recognize those footsteps, she had after all become intimately acquainted with all the various sounds that Draco and his crew made while being stuck inside her cabin for two days.

Curious but cautious she moved closer to the door, making sure to hold her own long skirts up so that they didn't swish against the ground and give her up to the intruder.

Nearer to the door she could hear the soft even breaths of someone walking softly so as to not wake anyone or not be betrayed by the creaking of the old wooden floorboards of the ship.

She twisted the knob ever so slightly and peeked out from the crack in the door. His back was turned to her, but she knew that he didn't resemble any of the few trusted men Draco had told about her and his son being on the ship. This area of the Basilisk was out of bounds to the other sailors.

She stepped out of the storeroom and shut the door behind her.

"Halt." she said in a clam voice, "And just who are you, my good sir?"

The man who turned to look at her was so charmingly handsome Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat.

Curiously his cold green eyes lit up with interest when he saw who it was that had stopped him.

"Well... well... well..." he replied in a beautiful baritone, the husky resonance of his Highland accent rubbing across her nerve endings, "Just who do we have here... never say that cold bastard has gotten himself a woman, I wouldn't warrant it."

Hermione stiffened in outrage, handsome as the man may be his social skills lacked any kind of sheen.

"I do believe." she said in a chilly tone, "It's customary for the guest to introduce themselves. Most especially when the host." she said emphatically, "was not expecting them."

"Why you're from the Highland." Replied the stranger with a delighted smile, moving towards her with the grace of a man who clearly knew his way around a ship.

"I must ask again sir... just who are you?" she raised an arm to stop him from getting any closer.

"My name is Theodore... but for you my dear... Theo will do." He said silkily, a mischievous smile curving his lips as he bowed gallantly before her.

...

Draco prowled the filthy dockyard impatiently, where the hell was Zabini? He should have been here half an hour ago, again he flipped open his watch, brooding as the smaller hand dragged further down.

Was Blaise in trouble, Draco would find that hard to believe. He had seen Zabini jump into burning ships with naught but a saber between his teeth and his own fists.

Suddenly out of the misty shadows emerged a familiar figure, Draco recognised the tall, slim form of Blaise Zabini immediately. 'Twas these very same attributes that helped the man blend into the background so well or even worse... to be underestimated.

Draco knew that any man who made either foolish mistake would pay a heavy price.

"My Lord." Blaise said reaching out to shake Draco's hand, the men briefly clasped hands while reaching out to thump each other on the back.

"You're late." Draco said moving away from his friend.

"I was unavoidable detained. I'm afraid I have bad news Draconis."

"What is it?"

"MacNott was not on his ship when I breached it earlier today and the crew on this vessel is strange..."

"Strange? How do you mean?"

"Lazy, inattentive, incompetent. I feel like something is afoot, if not in his own vessel where would he be?"

"In mine... mayhap..." Draco said quietly, the soft rage in his voice sending a shudder down the other man's back. But in an instant his rage transformed into something far more visceral... fear.

"My son... and Hermione..." said Draco in a strangled voice, "He could have seen them."

The last part left unsaid... he could have hurt them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment x


	12. XII

Previously...

He could have hurt them...

The Basilisk, Port Inverness  
................

"Ye say you're a friend of Draco's? I... I mean Lord MacFoy..." Hermione stammered out with a blush as she poured tea into a fine china cup to hand to the handsome stranger who she had caught in their walkway just moments earlier.

Was it entirely wise of her to allow this man into her parlour... perhaps not... but when he had told her he was an old acquaintance of Draco's Hermione's curiosity had been pricked. 'Twas too good of an opportunity to miss really.

"It's alright, darlin'." drawled Theo with a wink, "I meself call him Draco and therefore I must insist as his good friend and now hopefully yours... you would do me the honour of calling me Theo."

What Theo didn't elaborate further was he usually followed Draco's name with the words bastard or cold-hearted sonofabitch or when he was feeling particularly creative a litany of swear words that would make Hermione blush to the ends of her very curly hair.

He too was after all, a sailor. He just felt like a gentle lady had no requirement to hear such things.

What a charming rogue thought Hermione, amused. Theo couldn't have been much older than herself, but he was casual fashion personified from the handsome gold rings and chains that adorned his chest and fingers to the fine silk shirt with balloon sleeves and leather breeches. He smelled like sandalwood and the sea, an alluring, sensual fragrance.

She knew for a fact that this man probably lacked no dearth of female company for with his messy curls the colour of coal and eyes that were almost a gem like green Theo gave off the impression that he was always amused by some sort of secret jest that only him and the universe shared. He even held his cup of tea with a negligent air, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity as they surveyed her.

Despite his roguish charm Hermione only felt curiosity about the man, after all her heart was currently far too preoccupied with a grieving blond Dragon.

"My relationship with Malfoy is old trot." he declared, putting his elbows on his knees and looking into her eyes intently as they sat across from each other, "However you, my dear... 'tis you I am curious about."

Hermione was just about to open her mouth to speak when she heard the hard stomping of boots.

Only one man walked with such purpose.

Even Theo's eyes snapped up before he gave her a wicked grin, "Seems we'll have to save our discussion for another day, my sweet." Gallantly and to Hermione's shock he picked himself up off his chair and before she could react, he had placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Wait a minute..." she called in shock, but he had already winked and lithely jumped from the open porthole in her parlour and onto the deck.

Hermione ran to the window and looked out, but she was only quick enough to see a shadow jump down from the ship's deck into the freezing water and swim away with agility.

...

Draco stormed into the hidden rooms of the lower deck, fully expecting to see his son and Hermione hurt but was greeted with the sight of Hermione turning away from the porthole with baffled look on her face.

"Are you alright, Miss. Granger." Draco was unable to stop himself from marching over to her and holding her warm, vital body in her his arms, he needed to see she was unhurt himself. He dragged his hands over her shoulders and arms checking for injury.

"Draco..." Hermione murmured startled, "What happened?"

"I need to know if you're hurt anywhere, Hermione treasure. That bastard will pay." he swore. "He was, here wasn't he? I can smell that damn sandalwood everywhere."

Flustered by all the attention and the keen awareness that came with Draco's hands on her body Hermione hadn't even noticed the tall, swarthy man who had entered into the cabin behind Draco.

She blushed because the man was now studying her with a curious tilt of his head, his eyes enigmatic and shuttered as he watched Lord MacFoy grasp the arms of his son's nanny in a death grip.

"Let go My Lord." Hermione said gently, peeling his hard fingers away from where they were bruising the skin of her upper arms.

Draco wasn't listening, angry and concerned silver eyes raked her over from head to toe, "Is Scorpius...?"

"He is perfect." she replied firmly, wriggling to let him know he was holding her much too tight, "Sleeping as all wee bairns do, peacefully. Now will you please tell me what is wrong?"

"You met MacNott, Miss. Granger?" it wasn't Draco who spoke but the tall man who stood by the door.

"Theo? The young man with the dark hair from earlier?" Hermione asked confused, "Why yes, I even offered him a cup of tea! He said he was your old friend, My Lord."

Draco's hand grew even tighter.

"Draco." Hermione gasped, "You're hurting me."

"You are never." said Draco in an icy cold voice, turning her to face him, "Never, ever to let that man come anywhere near you or Scorpius, do I make myself clear."

Hermione who had been struggling to hold her own dragon at bay now began to fume. How dare he!? He had told her nothing and was now berating her for giving a man who might have been his friend tea! How was she supposed to know who he was if Draco had told her nothing?!

She wasn't having this.

"Maybe if ye deigned to put in an appearance once in a while to let me know my duties, My Lord... we wouldn't be having this problem." she said coldly, jerking out of his hold. "Or mayhap ye expected me to read your mind or have communicated your desires with me on the metaphysical plane."

"Damnation woman you are twisting my words!"

"Nay My Lord, in order for me to twist your words or your explanation you should have first have provided one." She replied coldly, "I think it's past time I excused myself."

And with those words whispered in an utterly regal manner Hermione swept out of the parlour and into her bedroom. Making sure to not slam the door since the little boy was sleeping within.

To Draco the quiet click of her bedroom door was louder than a cannonball.

"Hellfire, how did I lose control of this situation?"

Blaise grinned at him, a rare event.

"She's rather fiery." He said with appreciation, "And lovely too."

"A rather lovely pain in my arse more like." Draco muttered, running his hand through his dishevelled hair. "It's much too late now, come Zabini... I shall deal with Miss. Granger on the morn."

"Aye-aye sir." replied his friend, the stupid grin still on his face.

Draco glared at the other man, feeling a reluctant smile threaten to take over his face when Blaise whistled cheerfully while exiting the small parlour.

Draco knew he wouldn't be waiting for the morning, Hermione had to be impressed upon that Theodore MacNott was not a man she should be trifling with.

He was dangerous and he had gained access to Draco's territory. There had to be a traitor... there was no other way MacNott could have known about where on the large ship Draco kept his family, Draco would make sure to find the man who had let slip where they were and then... then he would skin him alive.

He was a fool, this was the folly of underestimating the other mans skill. He would not make that mistake again.

...

Hermione could not sleep, what an eventful night she thought with a sigh. There seemed to be far too many of those in her life recently. The downside of living with a Dragon she supposed.

Now that she was somewhat calm, she could see that Draco's cold words earlier had been coated in a thin layer of fear... fear for her... it had been so long since someone worried about her.

Had she truly made such a big mistake by inviting Theo to talk? Hermione knew vaguely of the legends around the demise of the MacFoy clan, it had been much before her own life in the village and she was not inclined to listen to what she at that time had believed to be a fairy-story.

The name MacNott was familiar of-course. It had been clever of Theo and vastly stupid of her not to ask his full name. But then again, he could have just lied to her.

A soft knock on her door interrupted her anxious thoughts, bringing her back to herself.

Oh dear... 'twas nearly dawn once again and she had a trepidatious feeling that 'twas Draco behind that knock.

The last time they had been alone during dawn... they had nearly made love. A mixture of reluctant and keen longing swirled within her. Maybe she should pretend to be asleep, they could always speak during the harsh light of day when the atmosphere wasn't so heavy with her hastily uttered words and his cold anger.

Besides the early dawn light gave the room an epicurean atmosphere that wasn't conducive to the discussion of such a serious matter.

"I know you're awake." His voice was gravelly... he sounded tired, "I came to apologize... that does seem to be a large theme in most of our conversations, Hermione."

Tentatively she got up from her bed and went to the door.

"I am indeed awake." she sighed, knowing that he could hear her soft words despite the door in between.

"Open the door." He coaxed gently.

"I don't think that would be wise, My Lord." she said with a sigh, "I'm sure you remember how our last dawn meeting went."

(A/N- Hermione makes a pun here usually a 'dawn meeting' during this period of English history would refer to a duel, they of-course did not engage in a traditional duel)

"Please, I promise to behave myself."

Hermione knew she was a weakling but her heart was completely divergent from her mind and so she opened up her cabin's door a mere crack.

Lord... but he did look tired. Soft purple smudges shaded his undereye, even his eyepatch was a little askew. She wanted so badly to reach out and adjust it for him, but she bit her bottom lip... restraining the impulse.

"I gather you're going to give me an explanation now." she whispered as he gazed down at her meditatively.

"Yes, perhaps you ought to come out, 'tis a long story and an unpleasant one." he said grimly.

Hermione followed him out to the small parlour where they had had their confrontation the night before. She sat demurely on the single wingback chair waiting for him patiently.

...

Draco grit his teeth. How the hell was he supposed to even begin? And what would she do once she heard the blood-soaked history of the man who she chosen to place her trust in.

"You know." she said gently, "I always find it's easiest if you begin from the first point you remember, no matter how mundane."

He swung around startled, grinning at the earnestness on her face.

"He's Theodore MacNott, the heir to the MacNott Duchy and the only remaining son alive. Our clans had been feuding for centuries but there is no MacFoy clan left to feud with anymore. Theo's father was responsible for wiping them all out."

Hermione gasped in dismay, what had she done!? She had entertained the first son of the clan responsible for Draco's parents deaths in his own vessel.

"Except you." she whispered.

"Except me." He replied with a grim, rather feral smile on his face. "Theo couldn't have been much older than me when his father marched into Glenmorgan on a night much like the one when you turned up at my doorstep. The village closest to the castle had been bribed to not send a messenger to their Laird, my father. The Keep fell that night." He said simply, his words not showing the depth of anger Hermione could see in his eyes. "They beheaded my father and raped my mother before slitting her throat. I was lucky to get out alive and it was only because of Dobby."

"Draco... oh Draco..." Hermione cried out, springing up from her chair and wrapping her arms around him.

"I am fine, love. 'Twas many years ago and my intention of telling you this was not to gain your sympathy. You need to understand that MacNott has taken on the mantle of revenge once his father died."

"Do you know the cause for the feud?" she murmured against his chest, pleased when his own arms closed around her tightly.

"The only people who could have told me are now dead and it's unlikely that I can gain a straight answer from MacNott. Normally when we meet, it's with daggers drawn."

Hermione shuddered, "And just how many times have you two 'met' like this?"

"Over the years?" Draco said with a thoughtful frown, "Mayhap more than a dozen times."

"Is he...? Like you? Magic?" she whispered.

"How perceptive of you." Draco said looking down at her in surprise.

"'Twasn't the hardest thing to glean, My Lord." she replied dryly, "After all one cannot be a billion years old and look like a young man in his prime without some supernatural help, I'd imagine."

"Are you calling me old, young lady?" Draco mockingly growled.

Hermione laughed gently before running her hand down his chest, a thoughtful frown on her face.

"What creature is he then? When he is a changeling?"

"I have never been able to confirm it, but I believe he is a kelpie."

"A kelpie? Does that mean he can shapeshift?" she asked curiously, "I wonder if that is how he gained entrance to your ship."

Draco jerked sharply, "What did you say?!"

"If he's a kelpie, he can probably shapeshift." she repeated with a frown on her face, "Did you not know that My Lord?"

"I know little about other creatures of the lore, aside from my own Dragon."

"Perhaps My Lord if you are able to look into the history of your special gifts, you might understand the cause of the feud between your clans. It occurs to me that when you lost your parents and your whole clan, you also lost a great deal of information and your history, there may be something within your clans history that given an indication as to why what happened to your parents did."

...

It had not occurred to Draco that in his vehemence to reject the very people who had betrayed him and his family he may have missed a vital clue as to the reason of their death.

"The hoard did always remain untouched." He murmured thoughtfully, tightening his arms around Hermione as she tried to move away from him.

"What is that My Lord?"

"The Dragon's Hoard. Our family's treasure, the hoard has been kept in Glenmorgan castle for centuries. After the raze I had expected to find it ransacked, like the rest of the castle yet it remained untouched. I always believed it was because they could never find it, that they killed my parents because of the rumours about the treasure."

Hermione yawned delicately and Draco was forced to let her go reluctantly.

"Mayhap I should offer my apology now, Hermione and allow you then to seek your bed."

"There is no apology necessary here, My Lord. It was I who was in the wrong for inviting that wretched man into your parlour."

Draco reached out and brushed her soft curls behind her ear, "Draco when we're alone please Hermione... I know it isn't fair to ask it of you, but I beg you... indulge me."

"Oh Draco." Hermione's voice was an aching inflection, "I would do even if were unfair of you to ask."

"I was terrified." he confessed softly, "When I knew that I had been tricked and that MacNott had found out that my ship was docked here. I didn't know what I would find when I returned."

Hermione felt her breath catch for this man who had seen every single person he loved snatched from him. The fear in his voice humbled her and at that moment she felt her heart break free from her own grasp and go hurtling towards him.

There was nothing on this earth that could have stopped her from falling in love with him, she realised all of a sudden. He was her every dream of chivalry, honour and loyalty come to life. A man who stoically bore the heavy responsibility the universe had decided to lay on his shoulders.

Maybe It knew as she did... they were broad enough to carry it all.

Tbc

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Honestly this is one of my favourite characterisations of Draco I have ever written. Enjoy the story!
> 
> A Kelpie- A kelpie, or water kelpie, is a shape-shifting spirit inhabiting lakes in Scottish folklore. It is a Celtic legend. It is usually described as a black horse-like creature, able to adopt human form.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this work, please leave a review!


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